







S':;';t\''£ 




iiMfipi 

s .x'n .' 5'' ' 

S= XN^N 






ilfS^ 


s.. .?> r^.'i 






,Wx sVv^^Wis X^X 


v\'>' \N 


HIBRARY OF CONGRESS.# 

j #. 

||lia{r?.X5 t 

I ....L5..G.G L 

& L 


! UNITED STATES OP AMERICA, f: 







• 1'fA' V *■ . ' J. ' '• 

S ■;.• v-'- .^. * v' 


A 


V- i 


. V N 

•;^ 'f /■•■;. '. > •. ■ ; 




, < • 


r - ' ^ "•' 


•. '""Ay, 

*V‘ • • 




•■ o 


-S ' 


T • • - . •' » ■ 

. 1 * .•♦#■%• • ' * V, •( 




\ 


.vC- 


, .va-; • 

• ^ 


i- 


t ‘. * ' t 


' - ‘-V- 

^•'v7. jN '•A 


. • ^ 


• 


V ■ ■ ' 

< • . * 1 ^^- 


^ ♦ 

I 


, .-f 


-4. 

^ t 

' \ 



V • 


.v; / 


>' ' 


> 


t ^ 

'• ^ * 
'VH 

t .' 


. > 

I * 

. 4 



> 

X, J". C'-' ‘ • 

‘ -y 



• “' * ~ .ii ’ ■ ‘ i y ^ ^ ^ ' *r 

» y- ^ y- 1 f • 

I ^ • f . ' - * ‘ ^ • L ’ * * . • F 

■' '■ -4^’ ■ ■-V^- ■ ’■*■1';; ;.■ 

/ ' - ' ^ - ■ ■>/. >'•► 

a \ % I m - • « 




• •.'% «*fJ 

• ' *■ *.' 


• » ..'C .**■ » ' 





J 




»♦• 

i . 


. 

r 


s 


♦ 

% « 


I • 


■■ 

.'‘y, 

-■ ‘^: 

. ** V" >1 . *«• ‘ *-•< 




,7 


« » 

, », 


■ < ■ 


' - ^ .4 


' • I , 

* 


t - V 4 ' V'*s A< v - - ' ' 

- A*- • !l' s -• r... 

- vu r..:-^y ;. • • .. 

' -^ . k . ■* ■- 

^ ■» 1^ -4^- .■.>' • 

- ^- »• . ^ J- T ■ ' ' 




t 




/V •. ;•.' 


f. 




■•.^' 'J- 


; .p-4- " *- 

i- ..XV-sX^V,--v ' ^ ; 


% * 


• ‘f: 

* . » 


^ ■ 


J^U 




it 

r 

A 





■' ■" ■'♦v? 


. if 


\ ' 


'’ vy .y^.c- ' 

m 


• • 


* V ;, 


S 


* i'^ 
* - 


4 




Ls - ' 


•'. y 


• >» 


- /- 'y ., ■'' 

.- r-^ ':• • -- ri., j;^' 


m 4 ' 


) 


• > 




,'■ ly^;- ; '■ 

. ' *1 ' r, '• '■' ’ V "' 

. - - 'S /• 


A. ‘M ‘ ^ •>- 

• -*«^ ,> 


k 

I'w 

✓ 


-r 




k' . 


. 4 


. *V ' 

r 

'I' 


'■> 


. -< 
« • “ 






‘ ^ ' • ‘^Wi^ i*' 
\ ■■ S! ^V 


m. 


- 'i 


»»WV. • . ^ . 

i-r ^ v'- -'' ‘ • •'^' • w' y 

. k , y*. - / , » • 4. ‘ • • f 

’•y-^ . y ... 'y 

* ‘ . '» • 


>■ 


• ' » F^:. ’ 
ll»* _tk 
"• * ' **“ • - A . ■- 
• • V* »\_ . 


' '■ ’ . 




• * * 
f 


. t 
*1 


:..'.^y’' 


'•• (■ ■ • 'X- 


..... 1 k. . 

•‘^,s 
'.V- 


% > • 




* ' i 


A;> 


^V' ' r 

O . '.’-V-:../ V^J- 

• •*' ' i- .v ., 

^^_. - ^ t . -.X-tO- 

* . , • « F.. *■•■•' ■ 

.y* ♦ / . 

7: .. ' - *• rf 




•« N 




,4 


V 


^ k 


^ 4 

^ » 


T‘ . 
< 


1 




f •.'A 

mV ^ ’ 


> I 


» 

/ ' t 

r 


::v-. •.' 


^ ■’ 


# 

* V 


.* • -3 

' ■ •?. 


\ 


- ^ i*’ V . 

.* v? -.I.. - 

• <"..i-'’'- ...;■ 




vf 


* '.’ V *>S- ■ a" 

. F. - *4. . ^,V ' . ' ^ .y" 

.* -r' .?>.'’'\v 

ft. > - ' •^.. ,. • *''%•*• 


I »■ 




" r./ 

^ A / 

rr- 




<>V"' 
* - -*-1 ' 




.r * 


•“ *. 

'■?'>*. . « 


I « 
# 




\ 

V^' . 


. • - • . ' / • ft. r •.. -.. *r^‘ r* . y- 

' F * — • . ‘ • X ^ /v ^ y' . t- . . V . 

V . _ : J: r 

- y. y '. -• V 5 ■ " ■ '“ ■ ■' * ^ V ■ -^ ^ X' ■ ^*:.' 

' yr'i'. 

4- ■- ■ ■ V '‘Ki ' ■' * ■% - ^ ' '^ • 

t V .. - ..• .-V. ,t. 

' ■■ - ■ • , - • 

. . *■ ' • ' . ,-' ^ 

- - f . . _ ♦ '/X . T 


, « 

l' 


< *> 


t • 


* 4* 


.• •* * 


4\ 


»' • 


• 


. » S 


. <' 


Jf. 

'*• * 

r 


'/(V - 


• ^ 


T V 

• - > F-. 

4» 


/ - ‘ 


'■ * •. ■ 
r*. '-. . vji ' . 

; ‘M; 


'■* I • 


» ■• 


■ ' . : •/■v.y. '-r 

;/ :-yi.y y** 

■ '^sSwi^.- . : j, y_- 

. •w r ^ ^ 


X ^ • 


.J 


0 p 


4* ' 

r« 






. F ^ ‘ 


i * * 

• V, 4 V.-*.: *Vi ' -• 

. . .. . -^ . 


f 
. M 


.yy-^' 




I 


-A . ~ 


. ^ 'W* .>' 


. ^ 


-» 

V 


-^ « V. 


V ' 


. 

»» 



.-w 


y-ii 


I 


i ■ 


* 7. ' . 


I • 


I' 


. V 


• 4 


^4^ 


• ^' 3 , 


» •' 




• • • • 

■Vv <. 

* f 

■ V • 

' - -f*, i '*• 

.* • y-.- 


'I 

% 


-.J v-'O-,-. '■ - ■ ■ ' 

,j • - , y > •>’ . 




X 


^:''H' y: 


1 

/ 


![. 


v^.- 


s -r^ 


.w 

S''*- ■^■^V»; 

" • r »•.■*• V*F 


I 



r ''7. * .' ’ 

vf 

^ ^ V ’■ 


.v: jT • 




• «-* 

\ • 


•y V J;* 


t- 


■V 

y »» 


♦ .* 


I 

i< 


^ *> 


-- FF ’ 

• 'rV , ■• . 

."' ^ 4 A ■ 


I vA t 








U7 




\ 


A * 







Leofwine 


Chastised 


by his Father. 

Se^ page 23 




Leofwine the Saxon ; 


A STORY OP HOPES AND STRUGGLES. 


By EMMA LESLIE, 

Author of “Glaucia,” “Flavia,” “ Quadratus/’ “Avesha,” etc. 


/ THREE IL.L.USTRATIONS. 

3 ^ 


NEW YORK: 
NELSON & PHILLIPS 

CINCINNATI : HITCHCOCK & WALDEN. 

SUNDAY-SCHOOL DEPARTMENT. 



•mi 


Entered aceording to Act of Congress, in the year 1875, by 
NELSON & PHILLIPS, 

in the Oflice of the Librarian of Congress at Washington. 


PREFACE 


I N this, the fifth volume of the series of Church 
History Stories, an attempt has been made to 
show the great power exerted by the Church in 
the Dark Ages — ages of deep ignorance, brutal 
violence, and cruel oppression — when the weak 
were crushed by the strong, and amid the tumult 
of battles and clash of arms there was little room 
left for the cultivation of learning, except within 
the walls of the monastery or convent. 

In such an age the Church was an ark of refuge 
to many a peace-loving soul. Here such were 
securely protected from the rudeness and vio- 
lence of the outer world, and within the dim 
cloister shadows was born and fostered that 
new power that was to regenerate the world, 
and make the scholar as noble as the warrior. 
Learning alone could subdue brute force, and 
make it bow before the superior might of mind ; 
and the nurseries for this learning could be only 
in the monasteries, for they had been the deposi- 
tories of the literature of by-gone ages, and held 
within their walls all that survived the sacking 
and burning of the cities of the old world. That 
the work of the Church at this time was a merci- 


6 


Preface. 


ful and beneficent one all must concede, interpos- 
ing her power, as she did, between the oppressor 
and the oppressed, and making even princes who 
owned no law but their own will, and no power 
but that of the sword, bow to her supremacy. 

Thus the Church became a tower of strength to 
the helpless subjects of tyrants. If she had not 
been false to her high trust, by placing the teach- 
ings of men before the oracles of God, and hiding 
him from view by the multitude of intercessors 
which she thrust forward, thus darkening men’s 
understanding by the superstitions she taught, her 
influence would have been much more beneficial. 
Then, too, she greatly erred in using her power 
more for her own aggrandizement, and the hum- 
bling of those who disputed her authority, than for 
purely religious and benevolent purposes. Yet 
notwithstanding these serious drawbacks, the influ- 
ence of the Church was exerted very largely for the 
good of the masses, particularly in repressing the 
violent passions and purposes of the higher classes 
of the people. In the later stories of this series 
we shall find that the Roman Church soon forgot 
her mission of mercy, and sought only to bind 
men, body and soul, to her superstitions and wor- 
ship. 


CONTENTS, 


Chapter Page 

I. The Thanes Household ii 

II. A Refuge for the Oppressed 23 

III. The Witch Wife 36 

IV. The Bower Maiden 47 

V. Life at Crowland 59 

VI. The Accusation 72 

VII. The World’s New Power 85 

VIII. The Search 100 

IX. The Young .Queen 114 

X. Ambitious Dreams 127 

XI. At Milan 140 

XII. Doubts and Perplexities 153 

XIII. The Lateran Council 165 

XIV. Bitter Disappointment 178 

XV. Ambition’s End 190 

XVI. In London 203 

XVII. A Merchant’s Household of Olden Time. 216 
XVHI. At the Gate of Jerusalem 229 


8 


Contents. 


Chapter Paob 

XIX. No Peace 241 

XX. Rival Popes 253 

XXI. Hildebrand’s Plans 266 

XXII. Conclusion 287 

► « ■ — 

illustrations. 


Leofwine Chastised by his Father 2 

Earl Harold and the Saxon Monk at the Court 

OF King Edward ; 87 

Escape of the English Sailors 105 


!t?i|inoipal ilfetisonagee 


LEOFRIC, 

Earl of Mercia. 

GRYFFYTH, 

King of Wales. 

GODWIN, 

Earl of Wessex. 

EDWARD, 

The Confessor. 

TOSTIG. 

OSGOOD. 

BERANGER. 

GODIVA. 

ALDYTHA. 

ALRIC. 


WILLIAM, 

Of Normandy. 

HILDEBRAND, 

(Pope Gregory VII.) 

GUIDO, 

Archbishop of Milan. 

CLAUDE, 

Of Turin. 

HAROLD. 

EDITHA. 

LANFRANC. 

DAMIANI. 

MORCAR. 

AILRED. 


I 






A'1 


V , 



/ 









r t 





LEOFWINE 


CHAPTER I. 

THE THANE’S HOUSEHOLD. 

I T was a wild, wet day in the early autumn, 
and the gusts of east wind that swept oc- 
casionally over the marshes and fens from the 
sea barely lifted the brown, choking fog that 
rested like a pall on every thing, from the great 
woods of the Bruneswald to the level fens that 
stretched away to the brown peat bogs and low 
marsh lands, and the sea itself. Dull, dreary, 
and death-like looked all the Danelagh in that 
dim, cheerless light, and men as well as the 
women folks were glad to cower under the shel- 
ter of barns and peat-stacks, or round the blaz- 
ing fire burning in the great hall. 

It was round such a fire that a motley com- 
pany were gathered this autumn afternoon of 
the year 1052. Eric, the highest thane in the 
service of the great Earl Leofric of Mercia, had 
built his mansion near the house of Bourne, 


12 


Leofwine. 


the favorite residence of the Countess Godiva, 
for Editha, his eldest daughter, was bower 
maiden to Godiva, and he, loving his children 
very tenderly, did not want to part with his child 
entirely, and here he could see her almost every 
day ; and, moreover, Editha could come home 
sometimes, and teach her younger sisters some- 
thing of what she learned from being in close 
attendance upon the great and sainted lady, her 
mistress. 

The neighborhood of the earl’s household had 
not proved an unmixed blessing to the thane’s 
family, however, for his second son, whom his 
father had intended for a monk, had chosen to 
be a follower of the Lord Hereward, who had 
caused his mother so much grief by his lawless 
doings that he was at last outlawed, and fled 
from the Danelagh to Scotland. Little had 
been heard of him since, or of Alric Ericson, 
only that the latter had fled to Flanders in- 
stead of Scotland. In his stern, silent way, the 
thane had grieved bitterly over the loss of his 
brave, daring son — for that he was both, none 
could deny — but that was past now, and every 
body had been so strictly forbidden ever to 
mention his name, that even the thane might 
have thought he was forgotten by nil save him- 
self and his wife. 


The Thane's Household. 13 

Had he entered his hall unawares this after- 
noon, however, he would have found that his 
carls and serfs, sitting now at the long oaken 
table drinking strong ale and furbishing their 
arms, were neither forgetful nor reticent concern- 
ing the prodigal ; and that in spite of drunken 
brawls and fights, highway robbery and house- 
breaking, the lawless young Alric had made a 
place for himself in the heart of all his father’s 
house-carls. 

He was a true viking,” whispered one in a 
tone of admiration, as his comrade concluded 
the recital of some deed of prowess in which 
Alric had rescued a hapless maiden from some 
band about as lawless as themselves, who were 
bearing her off to Bristol to be sold in the slave- 
market there. She was now a nun in the con- 
vent of Crowland — for the convent was the only 
refuge for orphans in those days — and the house- 
carls were of opinion that Alric would yet re- 
turn to his home, for the nun had promised, 
when she heard of his flight, to pray for the re- 
turn of her deliverer. Perhaps it was this that 
kept the hope alive in so many hearts at his 
home, for certain it is that whenever two or 
three could get together, Alric was sure to be 
the subject of conversation before long, both 
among the serving-maids and the house-carls. 


14 


Leofwine. 


The mansion of Eric was as unlike any mod- 
ern structure as can well be imagined, and to 
modern eyes would look like nothing but an 
irregular group of substantial barns with conical 
roofs, with here and there a lean-to, that had 
been added as the needs of the family increased. 
In the center of this group of buildings was the 
great hall, opening into the court-yard ; on one 
side was the chapel, on the other side the bow- 
er,*’ or ladies* room. Grouped at the back of 
these, or stretching away on either side, were the 
kitchens and bedrooms for the family, the store- 
rooms for all kinds of merchandise — with their 
lean-to additions — all built of stone below, and 
scarcely less solid timber above. Eric being a 
substantial well-to-do thane, standing high in 
his lord’s favor, had just such a house as this, 
perfect in all its appointments, with oaken tables 
and settees in the great hall, and a good supply 
of rushes for the ladies* bower. Here there was 
also a couch supplied with straw cushions and 
pillows, which likewise served for a bed at night. 

In this, the best room of the house, now sat 
Elswitha, the wife of Eric. She was a true Saxon 
matron, whose love to her Danish lord was mixed 
with no little fear ; she consequently lavished on 
her children all the tenderness of her heart. 
Eric accused her of having spoiled their eldest 


The Thane's Household. 


IS 


son, who should now be his companion in arms, 
as he would by and by succeed to the family 
estates, and have to serve Alfgar, Earl Leofric’s 
son ; but, unfortunately for Eric's pride and am- 
bition, Leofwine hated the stir and turmoil of 
such a life as his father had planned for him, 
and though his natural gentleness and obedience 
made him learn all that his father required of 
him in the use and furbishing of weapons, he 
never willingly handled one after the lesso^ was 
over, but in fine weather would plunge into the 
depths of the wood, or walk to some unfre- 
quented part of the fen, where, by some shin- 
ing river reach, or among the reed ponds and 
alder beds, would watch with deepest interest 
the ways of birds and insects — how they built 
their nests and reared their young, or changed 
their modes and forms of life as the seasons 
changed. ‘‘He was no viking, no Dane's son," 
the house-carls whispered as he returned with 
treasures from the woods and fen that Alric 
had more than once laughed at and trampled 
upon in contemptuous disdain, for he did not 
care for birds' nests except to tear them up, and a 
forsaken one he would have disdained to touch ; 
whereas, Leofwine would peep at the old birds 
as they went in and out, but would not lay a 
finger on their nest until they had finally left it. 


i6 


Leofwine. 


Leofwine rarely sat in the great hall. He 
soon learned to know that he and his treasures 
were despised by the roystering house-carls, 
and so he retreated to his mother’s bower, 
where, seated on the rushes in one corner, he 
could, undisturbed, examine more closely what 
he had brought home. It was because of this 
quiet, studious habit that his mother had him 
taught to read and write by an old monk, and 
this enabled him to pass pleasantly the long, 
dull days of autumn and winter, when otherwise 
time would have passed heavily for lack of suit- 
able employment ; beyond this Elswitha did not 
look at present. If he learned this clerkly art, 
like the monks, he might write and illuminate a 
psalter by and by, perhaps, worthy to be pre- 
sented to the Lady Godiva, and this was the 
mother’s highest ambition for her son. 

When her husband heard of this, however — 
and he regarded it as little less than treason 
against his authority — he was in a dreadful rage. 
‘‘ Whoever heard of a thane, a Dane’s son, learn- 
ing such monkish ways ! ” he exclaimed. And 
if he could he would have taken the knowledge 
from Leofwine at almost any cost. But the 
mischief was done, and the boy was not likelyr 
to forget what he had learned, for every scrap 
of paper on which there was any writing was 


The Thane's Household, 17 

added to his store of treasures, and a very odd 
collection it was. 

Despite his father’s anger, however, Leofwine 
had written out the psalter, and was now engaged 
in illuminating it ; and the absence of Eric just 
now afforded him an excellent opportunity for 
prosecuting this work. And so this dull after- 
noon Leofwine was sitting before a reading 
stand, with his work spread out before him, as 
near the window as possible ; while his mother 
and sisters, often pausing in their work of em- 
broidering the altar cloth on which they were 
engaged, listened to the soughing of the wind 
as it swept round the house. 

It was just such a day as this that Sister 
Editha went away to Coventry to attend upon 
the Lady Godiva,” said*the eldest of the three 
girls, who sat at their mother’s feet. 

'' It must be a dreadful place, that same 
Coventry,” said little Edburgha, the youngest. 
“ Is it as far as Constantinople, mother ? ” she 
asked ; for beyond their little world of the 
Bruneswald the girls had never been, and Lon- 
don, and Coventry, and Rome, and Constantino- 
ple were all equally distant and equally famous, 
according to their belief. True, the emperor 
lived at Constantinople, and the holy father in 
the sacred city of Rome ; but had not their 


i8 


Leofwine. 


great lady, the Countess Godiva, made the 
streets of her husband’s town of Coventry 
equally sacred by her deed of charity — riding 
through its length and breadth, clothed only 
with her matronly dignity and the great pity 
that swelled her heart and impelled her to ful- 
fill her husband’s word, and take the tax away 
that pressed so heavily on the poor wayfarer of 
the town. Edburgha had seen the white pal- 
frey on which the Lady Godiva rode that day, 
and had stroked and patted it for its share in 
the deed, and of course this was discussed again 
now, but not for long this afternoon, for Leof- 
wine suddenly lifted his head from his work of 
coloring a saint’s dress in bright vermilion and 
exclaimed. 

Mother, it was just %uch a day as this that 
Gurth, the swine-herd, came to tell us Alric 
had gone to Flanders ! ” 

Elswitha sighed as she answered, True, my 
son and then a silence fell upon all, until Ed- 
burgha startled them by asking. 

Will he be back soon now, mother ? ” 

“ Be back soon ! ” slowly repeated the lady. 

“ Yes and the little girl crept closer to her 
mother’s knee as she whispered, “ Yes, mother. 
I heard the were-wolves driven by the witches 
last night, and they came closer, closer, almost 


The Thane's Household. 


19 


to the stockade, and then I knew something 
must happen ; and what could it be but brother 
Alric coming home ? ’’ 

The maids had stopped their work with the 
distaff to listen to the child, and now crowded 
closer to the bed on which their mistress re- 
clined, dumb with a nameless terror that had 
suddenly seized them at the mention of were- 
wolves and witches. The stoutest hearted of 
the house-carls in . the great hall would have 
been equally terrified had they heard it, for 
these descendants of the old sea kings, who 
feared not the face of mortal man or the edge 
of sword or ax, lived in daily terror of pucks 
and ghosts, will-o’-the-wisps, and spirits of the 
woods and waters. The old superstition was 
not left so far behind that Christianity could 
break their belief in these things yet, only Odin 
being exchanged for the White Christ now ; and 
having declared themselves his men, they would 
cross themselves on brow and breast as a mag- 
ical charm against the spells of these powers of 
darkness, and thus the region of superstition 
was changed and modified a little, but far from 
conquered. 

Leofwine crossed himself, too, as he looked up 
from his work by the window ; but it was with 

more reverence than the maids or his sisters had 
2 


20 


Leofwine. 


made this sign, and he came slowly across to 
his mother's side to question little Edburgha 
more closely. He was a tall, slight-built lad, now 
nearly eighteen, but looking younger from the 
profusion of fair golden hair that fell upon his 
neck and shoulders, and now half vailed his 
pale, serious face, as he leaned forward to ques- 
tion his sister. 

Who told thee they were wolves that thou 
heardst ? ” asked Leofwine. 

I know they were," replied the little girl 
confidently. “ I have heard wolves — common 
wolves, such as the house-carls hunt and kill 
sometimes, but those I heard last night were 
not like them." 

'' How dost thou know ? thou didst not see 
them ! " exclaimed Leofwine, anxious to allay 
his mother’s fears by convincing her that it was 
all a trick of Edburgha’s imagination. 

‘‘ No one could see them, of course, but the 
witches who were driving them. Leofwine, I 
heard t/iem, too," added the child, with a shud- 
der, while all the maids again crossed them- 
selves, and Elswitha laid her face in her hands. 

But it seemed that Leofwine would not be 
convinced. Nay, if thou heardst these things 
thou wouldst have screamed, and have run to 
some one to tell what thou heardst," he said. 


The Thane's Household, 


21 


Leofvvine, they would not let me. Some- 
thing held me back all day when I wanted to 
tell my mother, and, of course, it must be the 
witches,” replied Edburgha, still in the same 
serious tone. 

‘‘ It could be nothing else ! ” exclaimed her 
mother at this point. “ Leofwine, it is of no use 
trying to fight against spirits ; the child hath 
heard the witches of the wood, and something 
will surely happen, for they have not been heard 
by any in this house since Alric went away,” 
and the lady sighed deeply as she spoke. The 
terror-stricken maids crowded closer round their 
mistress, each wondering what disaster these 
witches would cause, but none daring, at pres- 
sent, to speak. A gloomy silence seemed to 
have fallen upon all of them but little Edburgha, 
and she again asked, “ Will not Alric come 
home again, mother } If these were the witches 
who took him away, perhaps they want to tell 
us that he is coming home again — home ‘ over 
the swan bath,' that nurse sings of in the sagal' 
added the child. 

But no one seemed inclined to answer this 
question of Edburgha's, and at length her 
mother bade her be quiet, and not talk about 
Alric again. 

‘‘Thy father will be home from his service 


22 


Leofwine. 


witli the carls ere night-fall,” added the lady, 
turning to her son ; '' see to it that the fire be 
replenished, and the mead and ale placed ready ; 
also, if any of those witless house-carls have 
drank their senses away, let them be carried to 
the barn, and clean straw be shook down upon 
them.” 

Leofwine went out to do his mother’s bid- 
ding, smiling as he went, at her care for her 
drunken servants’ comfort. Men might well 
say she spoiled her sons when she thus pam- 
pered her house-carls. 


A Refuge for the Oppressed. 


23 


CHAPTER II. 


A REFUGE FOR THE OPPRESSED. 

~OFWINE had just seen that his mothers 



J — / wishes were carried out when his father 
entered the hall. Something in the conference 
with his chief had put the thane out of temper, 
and he stalked up to the raised platform where 
Leofwine was still standing, and demanded why 
supper was not served. 

The lad raised his pale face and looked at his 
father, who had been drinking as deeply as the 
house-carls, he could see, and he was about to 
make some reply about supper not being served 
until his return, when Eric suddenly drew forth 
the cowhide whip he usually carried and struck 
Leofwine across the shoulders, the thong catch- 
ing his face likewise, and almost drawing the 
blood.* 

‘‘ Truly thou art no viking — no sea thief's 
son ! " he roared in his insensate fury, as blow 
followed blow ; while Leofwine, pale and bleed- 
ing, but disdaining to cry or utter a sound, 


* See Frontispiece. 


24 


Leofwine. 


sunk down at last, wailing with agony from the 
repeated blows. 

Eric dropped his whip then, and stalked 
into the bower ; but his vengeance having been 
wreaked upon Leofwine, only a few angry words 
fell to his wife's share, and then he began telling 
her of his vexation over the arrangements Earl 
Leofric had proposed to make for their journey 
to Westminster to attend the Witenagemote, or 
great council of the nation, at Christmas. 

Elswitha listened in submissive silence to all 
her lord chose to tell her, wondering all the 
while why Leofwine had not returned, and hoping 
that the reading-stand near the window would 
escape his notice. But it did not, and Eric 
crossed over and looked at the psalter with an 
air of contempt. 

It is well said that Leofwine is no thane’s 
son, or he would not waste his days over monk 
learning and woman’s work such as this,” he 
said with a sneer. “ Elswitha, thou hast made 
a monk of our first-born. I would that Alric 
were here to go with us to Westminster this 
Yule-tide,” he added. It was the first time the 
boy’s name had passed his lips since he had 
been gone, and Elswitha guessed that the vex- 
ation ” he had spoken of was in some way con- 
nected with Leofwine accompanying them on 


A Refuge for the Oppressed. 25 

this projected journey, and her heart beat 
high with hope that the saintly King Edward 
would notice the rare excellence of her Leof- 
wine, and bestow some honor upon him that 
should command the favor of his father for him 
at last. This was all she asked, all she prayed 
for, that Eric might be able to appreciate Leof- 
wine instead of despising him. 

She betrayed something of her thoughts. 
When she spoke again Eric exclaimed, “ That 
white-headed driveler, the tool of the Godwins, 
and the puppet of the Norman monks, would 
doubtless think him a saintly viking, too good 
for us Danelagh men ; but he shall not go 
where he can see him. If he must needs be a 
monk let him be shaven here in our abbey of 
Crowland or the Minster of Peterborough, and 
it may be that Alric will return when he is 
tired of a Berserker’s life.” 

Elswitha scarcely knew what to make of this 
speech. That Leofwine had often secretly 
longed to enter a monastery, where he would 
have access to books and leisure to study them 
without fear or distraction, she was well aware, 
but whether his father intended to consent to 
this she was at a loss to know. 

The blowing of a horn soon summoned them 
to supper, however, and they passed into the 


26 


Leofwine. 


great hall, where, on the dais, raised a step from 
the ground, stood one table near which stood 
servitors with spits, bearing large pieces of 
meat. At this table were placed seats for the 
family of the thane ; while at another, running 
lengthwise of the hall, sat the house-carls, ac- 
cording to their degrees, the slaves sitting at 
the lower end or on the floor among the dogs. 

When they were all assembled, and the bar- 
rel of ale for that meal’s consumption had been 
broached, Elswitha noticed that Leofwine’s 
place was vacant, and she at once inquired 
where he had gone. 

A meaning glance was exchanged between 
the house-carls, but no one replied to her ques- 
tion, and, in some alarm, the lady turned to her 
husband. 

Silence, woman ! ” roared he ; ‘‘ if it were not 
for thy puling ways he would not have been 
whipped like a slave or a hound without turn- 
ing again, though it had been a king who held 
the whip.” 

This, then, was an offense to the angry, in- 
consistent father, that he had not turned upon 
him, as Alric would have done, and, seizing 
the weapon, returned blow for blow. Els- 
witha -understood it almost as well as though 
she had witnessed the whole scene, but none 


A Reftige for the Oppressed. 27 

the less pity did she feel for her unfortunate 
son. She could not touch a morsel of the huge 
slices of boar’s flesh that had been heaped upon 
her wooden platter, for the vision of Leofwine, 
pale, bleeding, almost dying, perhaps, as she 
had found the slaves sometimes after they had 
been punished by Eric, effectually took away 
her appetite. 

As soon as she could leave the table unob- 
served she went in search of her son, and, as 
she expected, found him lying on a heap of 
straw in a little dark lean-to, that was scarcely 
more than a closet, but was to Leofwine a very 
palace of delight, since here he could look over 
all his curious treasures without fear of inter- 
ruption from any one. 

But these, and every thing else, were forgot- 
ten now in the pain he endured — pain of body 
and mind — and thp latter was scarcely less 
keen than the former, for how could he ever 
look those house-carls in the face again, now 
that he had been whipped like a hound or a 
slave. It was this that made the pain in his 
bruised, stiffened limbs so intolerable, and lent 
such a depth of agony to the groans that broke 
from his lips. He did not know that his moth- 
er was so near, or he would have refrained from 
uttering them even now ; but she was kneeling 


28 


Leofwine. 


by his side before he heard a footstep, and her 
soft and gentle kisses were on his brow before 
she spoke his name. 

‘‘ O Leofwine, my boy, my darling, would 
that I had been near to take those cruel blows, 
for I have deserved them more than thou 
hast ! ” she wailed forth at last. 

''Nay, nay, mother, I would that thou hadst 
not known of this ; but O, tell me, why doth 
God make men when there is no room for them 
in the world ? ” 

The question was asked passionately, almost 
bitterly, as Leofwine turned his pale face toward 
his mother, as if waiting for her answer. 

She could not reply at once, but in a minute 
or two she sobbed forth, " Nay, my son, the 
world is large, larger than our Danelagh.” 

" But there is no room in it for me and 
others like me — if there are others so unhappy 
— for all the world I have ever heard of is full 
of strife, and war, and fighting ; and for men of 
peace there is no place.” 

" Nay, my son, but God hath provided an ark 
of refuge for the peaceful and gentle as well as 
for the feeble, even the peace of holy Church, 
where none but the penitent and the holy can 
enter.” 

" Mock me not, mother ; thou knowest not 


A Refuge for the Oppressed, 29 

how often I have sighed for the peace and rest 
and leisure that can only be found in the mon- 
astery — rest and leisure not to be a mere idler 
or drone, but to do the work I can do — study 
the works of God in the world, of the fen and 
the woods — for to me this is far nobler than 
hacking men to death with the edge of the 
sword, burning houses, and sacking towns.” 

But Elswitha shook her head : ‘‘ Nay, nay, 
speak not thus of our heroes and sea-kings. 
Of course the world is for them to fight in, and 
—and—” 

‘‘ The weak and peaceful must be trodden 
under foot in the strife,” interrupted Leofwine. 

‘^Nay, but God hath provided a hiding-place 
for them, that the strongest may not enter by 
force, but the weakest may fly to and be safe. 
But what am I saying.'^ I came not to talk to 
thee now, but to tend thee and setting down 
the lantern she had brought with her in a more 
secure place, she proceeded to unfasten Leof- 
wine’s tunic, stiffened now with the blood from 
his wounds, and which it was rendering more 
painful. 

But Leofwine objected to this. *'Nay, my 
mother, I can bear this pain,” he said. “ I am 
strong to endure, if not to fight ; but the gold 
ring about my neck, take that off, for I am 


30 


Leofwine. 


no thane's son now ; I have been beaten like \ 
slave." 

But Elswitha paid no heed to these words. 
She gently bared the white shoulders, now a 
mass of purple bruises and bleeding wounds, 
and with tenderest hands bathed and dressed 
them, not speaking one word, for her heart 
was too full to say aught with that cruel sight 
before her eyes — her husband’s work, too. 

When she had finished her task she again 
kissed the disfigured face, as though he had 
been an infant, still holding him in her arms, as 
though to protect him from all the world. She 
knew not what to do about telling him of his 
father’s words, but his next question decided 
her. , 

‘‘ Mother, hast thou tried the roots I got 
from the woods — whether they are the heal-alls 
I thought them ? " said Leofwine. 

Elswitha smiled faintly. ‘^Thou shalt judge, 
my son, for it was a decoction I had made from 
them I have even now laid upon thy shoulders. 
I tried it first upon my own cut finger, and it 
was of very mighty power in healing that." 

But I hope thou hast not wasted much of 
the goodly potion upon me, for I know not 
when I may be able to find more of that root," 
said Leofwine. 


31 


A Refjige for the Oppressed. 

^'Nay, leave the talking of roots, and let us 
talk of holy mother Church. My son, she is 
rightly called ‘mother’ for such as thee. I 
would fain hold thee in mine arms, and protect 
thee -from all violence, but I cannot, as thou 
knowest, and so God in mercy hath given us a 
mother in the Church, whose arms are long and 
strong, and can gather all within their shelter- 
ing clasp. Wilt thou go to the embrace of this 
holy mother } ” 

The question came slowly, falteringly, and 
Elswitha unconsciously drew him closer to her 
breast, as if unwilling to give him up, for she 
knew that it must be a total surrender ; that 
Leofwine would be no longer hen son when he 
became a monk, and that it would be his duty 
to put away from him all the love he had ever 
felt for her as something earthly, and hers to 
help him perform this duty by a seeming for- 
getfulness of all the ties that bound them 
so closely to each other. The forgetfulness 
could only be seeming with her. She knew 
her heart would ever pine and yearn for one 
look at the dear face, one touch of the delicate 
hand, that ever seemed too small and tender to 
wield sword or battle-ax ; so there was little 
wonder that her voice quivered as she thought 
of the claims of this spiritual mother, who was 


32 


Leowine. 


strong and merciful, but accepted no half sacri- 
fice ; who insisted that her children should own 
no ties but those that bound them to her. 

Leofwine seemed to understand all that was 
passing in his mother s mind. “ If I could stay 
by thy side and learn all that woods and fen 
could teach, and all that wise men have written 
in books concerning plants and roots, and the 
medicaments that they yield, and the ways of 
birds and insects during their short life, I would 
fain stay here ; but — but — ” 

‘‘ That cannot be,” said Elswitha sadly ; “ that 
is not the way of heroes and sea-kings, and thy 
father is assured that thou art not one of them.” 

''Yea, I am no viking, no thane’s son,” said 
Leofwine, "but I am as God made me, and thou 
hast not spoiled me, my mother, as thou art 
constantly bewailing. I would that Alric had 
been the eldest,” he suddenly added. 

" Ah ! if it could have been so — if only Alric 
could come home now,” said Elswitha. 

" Thou wouldst have a son to love still when 
I had gone away, and my father would have one 
of whom he could feel proud, for Alric could 
wield battle-ax or draw bow with any in the 
Bruneswald.” He did not say how he had en- 
vied his brother these gifts ; how vain and use- 
less, if not worse, seemed the intense thirst for 


A Refuge for the Oppressed. 33 

knowledge that constantly made itself felt in 
him, when compared with the reckless daring 
that every body so much admired, even if it did 
run to excess sometimes. 

'' It is as thou sayest, my Leofwine, but it is 
vain to wish for Alric now, and — ” 

Nay, say not so, my mother ; for if my father 
will let me enter the monastery, I will go in 
search of Alric that he may not be without a 
son, or my sisters without a brother who can 
protect them against all comers.” 

Thou wilt go in search of Alric } ” uttered 
his mother. 

‘‘ Even so ; before I begin to study the books 
of the wise and learned I will set out on this 
quest, and give it not up until I have found my 
brother.” 

‘‘ But how wilt thou go ? ” asked Elswitha, a 
ray of hope darting into her mind that her boy 
might yet be restored to his home. 

With sandals and scallop shell, even as the 
poorest pilgrim who begs his way to the sacred 
city of the saints — holy Rome,” answered Leof- 
wine. 

“Nay, but Alric cared little for the saints 
here, and he and the Lord Hereward laughed at 
the costly gift of St. Augustine’s arm which Lady 
Godiva obtained from Pavia ; so that he is little 


34 


Leofwine. 


likely to journey to Rome for the sake of the 
holy relics.” 

Nay, but, my mother, Rome is the center of 
the earth, the fountain of knowledge as well as 
holiness, and my brother would surely journey 
thither after he had seen Flanders, and how 
those mincing Normans live when they are in 
their own country. I, too, will journey by way 
of Flanders and through Normandy, and it may 
be I shall find him there fighting the battles of 
some earl or count who hath few such bowmen 
as Alric in his troop.” 

It was strange to see the pride and exultation 
with which Leofwine spoke of his younger 
brother ; but the admiration he felt for his dar- 
ing bravery was a true exponent of the feeling 
now ruling in the hearts of all men. Might, 
power, and brute force now ruled the world, and 
bore down all before it, except where the Church 
stepped in, and, with a voice that would be 
heard above all the din of the strife, exclaimed^ 
'Hitherto shalt thou come, but no further ! ” 

Many, like poor Leofwine, who had felt them- 
selves unequal to the din, and roar, and turmoil 
of life, had gathered under the shelter of her 
wings, and now, when he heard that his father 
had given a half consent to his entering the ab- 
bey of Crowland, his heart bounded with joy at 


A Refuge for the Oppressed. 3 5 

the thought of such a refuge. ‘‘ Mother, thou 
wilt let me go ? ” he said in a half whisper. 

“ Let thee go to the mother who is strong to 
protect thee from all harm ! ” murmured Els- 
witha, as if persuading her own heart to make 
the sacrifice. ‘‘Yes, Leofwine, thou shalt go,'' 
she said, and then her head sank down upon his 
shoulder, and she burst into a flood of tears. 

3 


36 


Leofwine. 


CHAPTER III. 

THE WITCH WIFE. 

E LSWITHA’S departure from the supper- 
table was not as unnoticed as she supposed ; 
for, although Eric had drank deeply of both ale 
and mead, he was far more sober now than 
when he first came home, and he watched his 
wife as she entered the bower, and knew that 
she was going to visit Leofwine. Truth to tell, 
he felt half ashamed of his deed now. Of course 
he had a right to beat his own son if he liked, 
even as he might chastise his wife in any way 
he saw fit short of killing her ; but he never had 
raised his hand against Elswitha, and he wished 
now he had not beaten Leofwine. But the 
deed was done, and could not be recalled, what- 
ever its consequences might be. Not that Eric 
feared any thing in this way, for was not he ab- 
solute master in his family. But still, if Alric 
were at home, or he knew whether he would 
ever return, his mind would be more at ease 
upon one point, and that was the hasty words 
he had spoken concerning Leofwine becoming a 
monk. He was almost sure his wife had taken 


37 


The Witch Wife. 

them as a permission, and would so report them 
to the lad, and he might escape to Crowland 
Abbey with the dawn of day, and once under the 
protection of the Church no mortal power could 
remove him. 

These were some of the thoughts that pre- 
sented themselves to the mind of Eric after his 
wife’s departure from the table. But he did not 
sit there long after she had gone. Calling for 
a lantern, he prepared to go out in spite of the 
choking fog and sleet that came driving up from 
the sea, cutting and blinding all who attempted 
to face its fury. But to the hardy Norseman 
the rage of the elements were the spirits of the 
air and water at play, or fighting one of their 
numerous battles, and so it was not the fear of 
cold or wet that made Eric draw back as he 
opened the door, and was met by a gust of 
^ wind and rain, but that nameless terror of those 
powers of darkness who were supposed to revel 
in these storms, and whose good or baneful in- 
fluence was by all the people believed to be so 
influential upon human destinies. 

Perhaps the errand he was bent upon made 
him more fearful than usual, for he stood irreso- 
lute for a moment after he had stepped back, as 
if half inclined not to go out, while the curious 
eyes of his slaves and house-carls watched him 


38 


Leofwine. 


furtively, wondering where he could be going 
in such weather. Not to the house of Bourne, 
for when at last he stepped out and closed the 
door by its heavy wooden latch, he turned in 
the opposite direction from the well-worn path 
leading to the mansion of his chief. 

Wrapping the wolf-skin cloak he wore more 
carefully about him, he cautiously looked round 
to see that no one was near to watch him, and 
then hurried off toward the wood, fearful each 
moment lest the spirits then abroad should take 
bodily form, and drive him back before their 
secrets were made known. 

Eric had been baptized, and was accounted a 
good Christian, like all the Danelagh men of his 
day. He believed, too, that God had made the 
world ; but beyond this his notions of scriptural 
truth were most confused, if not positively up- 
side down, for the Christianity taught by the , 
apostles had sadly degenerated, and, like pure 
water, conveyed in earthen vessels, had con- 
tracted so many impurities from the same that 
it was now little better than a turbid, muddy 
stream instead of a pure fountain. As Macaulay 
says, “ Roman policy. Gothic ignorance, Gre- 
cian ingenuity, and Syrian asceticism, had all 
contributed to deprave the Church,” and so it 
was little to be wondered at that men's notions 


The Witch Wife, 


39 


of Christian truth were much confused, and their 
practice often sadly at fault with its teachings. ' 

The practice of magic had been forbidden by 
the Church. Eric, too, had somewhere heard 
it said, The earth is the Lord’s, and the fullness 
thereof ; ” but the saying, did -not interfere in 
the least with his practical belief that Satan had, 
somehow, got hold of it since, and now ruled 
according to his will, and that he and his bands 
of spirits were to be feared, propitiated, and 
might occasionally be consulted through the 
medium of their own special servants. 

There was such an individual here in the 
Danelagh — “ a wise woman,” whose existence 
was a secret known only to the great earl and a 
few of his thanes ; at least they supposed they 
were the only ones who ever visited her hut, 
and so secretly even then were these visits paid 
that none knew when another had been. The 
‘‘wise woman” was an old Lapp, who had 
learned all the sorceries of the North for which 
her nation was so famed, and had since added 
to this dark knowledge from a long residence 
among the Saracens of the south of Spain, 
whither she had been carried captive, and where 
she met with a Moslem magician, from whom 
she contrived to learn something of Arabian 
black art. 


40 


Leofwine. 


As Eric drew near the spot where she lived, 
he saw a dark figure wrapped, like himself, in a 
thick cloak, and evidently returning from the 
witch's cottage, and something in his gait, and 
the manner of wearing his cloak and swinging 
his arms convinced him that his chief, the great 
Earl Leofric, had been to consult the ‘'wise 
woman" upon some business. Neither spoke, 
however, or took the slightest notice of each 
other ; and when Eric entered the cottage the 
old woman sat with her pet serpent coiled round 
her neck, looking at the glowing wood fire 
burning on the hearth, and watching the con- 
tents of a large pot that stood at the side, as 
though she had not moved from that position 
for hours. 

She turned her head slightly as the tall thane 
entered by the low door, but she did not rise to 
receive him, only, pointing to the boiling pot, 
she said, “ I heard you were coming." A feel- 
ing of awe crept over Eric as he looked at the 
weird old woman and her strange companion. 
He did not know that the fangs of the serpent 
had been drawn, and the reptile tamed before it 
was brought from Spain, and of course every 
thing that increased the awe of her ignorant 
victims added to her own importance, so that 
she was not likely to tell any one of this fact. 


The Witch Wife. 


41 


‘^Thou hast come to consult me about thy 
son Alric/' she said after a few minutes’ si- 
lence, and apparently lost in the study of the 
curious mixture boiling in the pot. 

'‘True, most wise sorceress,” answered Eric, 
“ and I would fain know where he is at this 
time.” 

The woman never looked at her questioner, 
but going to a shelf took a small leathern bottle 
from among a heterogeneous collection of books, 
dried herbs, and strange-looking instruments of 
brass and iron, and pouring a few drops of dark- 
looking liquid from the bottle, again sat down 
to watch the pot. 

" Alric is in Flanders,” said the old woman 
after a few minutes watching and waiting. 

" He went to Flanders, I know,” said the 
thane a little impatiently, " but — ” 

The old woman turned her dark, fiery-look- 
ing eyes upon him as though she would strike 
him to the earth. " Dost thou question the 
truth revealed by yon magic charms.^” she said, 
pointing to the seething caldron. 

Bold and brave as Eric was he quailed be- 
neath the fascination of her gaze, little dream- 
ing that her confident assertion as to the where- 
abouts of his son, was nothing more than a 
lucky guess, founded upon the information she 


42 


Leofwine. 


had just received from Earl Leofric that Here- 
Avard had been heard of at last, and was in 
Flanders fighting the battles of Count Baldwin. 

Eric had heard the same, but he was by no 
means so sure that Alric was with his former 
leader as the old woman was, but, of course, if 
she said he was there it must be true. One 
other question he had to propound. Would Al- 
ric return to his home again ? 

This question required a cautious, guarded 
answer, for, of course, she knew no more about 
the lad than his father did, and so she sat once 
more intent upon the simmering stew before 
venturing to reply. At length, without raising 
her head, she uttered, in a slow, mechanical 
voice, The boy may return once more to the 
shores of England, but it must be as the eldest 
— to fight by thy side — to take another’s place 
in thy counsels.*’ 

“ And that other is Leofwine, my first-born ^ ” 
said Eric quickly. 

The old woman shook her head. ‘‘ That other 
wears the monk’s cowl and carries the pilgrim’s 
scrip, and shell — ” she went on still in the same 
tone, as if quite unconscious of what she was 
saying. 

The thane appeared to be quite content with 
this last prediction, and did not question her 


The Witch Wife, 


43 


further. Laying five silver pennies on the 
table, he once more drew his cloak about him, 
took up his horn lantern, and departed, while 
the old woman seized the money, gloating and 
chuckling over it, as she rung each one upon 
the table, and laughing hoarsely at the credu- 
lity of her visitor. 

‘‘The big, brave, ignorant fool,'’ she said, 
“ he is happy now that he thinks his blustering, 
riotous son will come home again ; and that 
poor fellow, Leofwine, will get his wish, and 
think me a wise woman, too, when I tell him 
his head shall be shaven before Christmas 
comes round. I hope Eric will fulfill the rest 
of my prophecy, and let him go in search of 
Alric ; it will do him good to see other coun- 
tries and other people, and he will learn more 
in a year concerning these medicines and heal- 
ing herbs from the learned monks of France 
and Italy than he would in a life-time here at 
Crowland.” 

No wonder the woman laughed with glee as 
she thought of making both father and son mere 
puppets, to be moved as she worked the wires. 
It was a dangerous power for any to possess, 
only, in this case, it was rarely used for other 
than a good-natured, benevolent purpose; and 
to-night the woman felt a keen joy in being able 


44 


Leofwine. 


to help her young favorite, who had so often 
helped her when she was out gathering sticks, 
and herbs or other nostrums for her mysterious 
pot, all of which were picked up in the woods 
around her cottage. 

Meanwhile Eric had returned home, and 
found his wife prostrate on the floor of the 
chapel in front of the altar, beseeching the in- 
tercession of the saints on behalf of Leofwine. 
Pausing at the entrance of the rude, dimly- 
lighted little chapel, where a few roughly carved 
images of St. Peter, St. Augustin, and St. 
Alphage, and one or two other Roman deities, 
were ranged near the altar, he looked at Els- 
witha pityingly, and would fain have gone and 
raised her from her prostrate position. But he 
dare not enter the sacred precincts fresh from 
the presence of a witch — it might be of the evil 
Spirit himself, for who could tell what that 
magical pot contained — it would be an insult 
to every saint present, and they might strike 
him with blindness, or lameness, or any other 
calamity for his presumption ; such miracles 
had been done before now, according to Eric’s 
belief 

So he waited patiently and reverently in the 
shadow of the doorway, hoping the saints would 
not see him, until, growing tired, he went to join 


The Witch Wife. * 45 

his house-carls drinking their mead and ale in 
the great hall. 

Eating and drinking was almost the only- 
pastime possible in the Bruneswald during the 
long, dark, foggy days of autumn. When winter 
set in in real earnest, and the east wind, with 
icy breath, had hardened the surface of every 
mere and pool in the fens, then there would be 
sliding, and skating, and jumping, and wrest- 
ling, and every other manly sport these stalwart 
Danelagh men enjoyed with an intensity equaled 
only by their love of real fighting. The heavy 
snow-storms often came on so suddenly, that 
before their flocks of sheep and herds of bul- 
locks and swine could be fetched home some 
were buried in the snow-wreaths ; but then it 
was good fun to pull them out, for a little extra 
labor and straining of muscle never came amiss 
to them. 

That they should drink as hard as they 
fought, labored, and played was only natural, 
and so Elswitha did not look at all shocked 
when, after her long vigil before the altar, she 
came into the great hall, looking like a pale, 
trembling ghost, and saw her husband and his 
house-carls just where they had fallen, over- 
come with sleep and drink. Under the table, 
across the overturned settees, there they lay 


46 


Leofwine. 


snoring insensibly ; and there stood Elswitha, 
for a moment looking at her husband with a 
troubled, anxious face, for she could not tell 
whether she had done right or wrong in giving 
Leofwine the hope that he might yet be allowed 
to enter the monastery. 

Four weary hours had she knelt on the hard- 
ened earth that formed the floor of the chapel. 
Each saint, in turn, had she besought to have 
mercy upon her husband and her son. Even 
the virgin mother herself had been pleaded 
with, and a statue had been promised to her if 
only she would intercede with her Son on behalf 
of Leofwine. 

Poor mother ! no wonder she still felt anxious 
and doubtful after all her prayers ; for these 
false mediators, though representing good men 
and women, had been thrust by the Church be- 
tween her soul and the only true Mediator, the 
Lord Jesus Christ himself ; and that she should 
go to bed at last sad and desponding, with this 
great weight of trouble on her heart, is not at 
all surprising. 


The Bower Maiden. 


47 


CHAPTER IV. 

THE BOWER MAIDEN. 

HEN Leofwine heard that all the diffi- 



V V culties in the way of his entering the 
monastery had suddenly vanished, like a snow- 
wreath before the south wind, he thought it 
was all the work of the saints and his mother, 
who had prayed for their intercession. He did 
not see his father the next day, for Eric was 
more than half-ashamed of having beaten him, 
and, the day being fine, he and some of his 
house-carls went to hunt the wolf and boar, for 
wolves were not yet exterminated, and during 
the winter often committed great depredations 
among the flocks and herds, not disdaining to 
make a meal off a man or woman who hap- 
pened to fall in their way. So Leofwine moved 
about as well as his bruised, stiffened limbs 
would allow him, disdaining to utter any com- 
plaint, and anxious only to comfort and cheer 
his mother, who would feel the coming separa- 
tion more keenly than any one else. So he 
persuaded her to make a personal inspection of 
all the hawks and falcons — not only her own 


48 


Leofwine. 


favorite, who usually perched itself on her wrist 
or on the back of her chair, but those belonging 
to his father and himself, as well as those his 
brother had once owned. His own he caressed 
with more than his usual tenderness, and when 
the bird, proud of the notice thus taken of it, 
plumed its feathers and shook out its wings, 
Leofwine bowed his head and actually kissed 
it. ‘‘ Mother,’’ he whispered, I wish it were 
meet for a poor monk to keep a hawk or fal- 
con, for I would fain have something there that 
I have loved at home.” 

But the lady merely shook her head. Nay, 
nay, it is wrong to wish for such vain love 
now, my son,” she said. Thine heart must 
be given wholly to the contemplation of God 
and the blessed saints but Elswitha vainly 
tried to suppress a sigh as she spoke these 
words. 

Every hawk, falcon, and hound were visited, 
caressed, and petted by Leofwine that day, 
while on his left wrist sat his own especial 
favorite, as if divining that she should soon 
lose her beloved young master. 

But Leofwine was not to leave home quite 
so soon as he expected. When his father re- 
turned he heard that his sister Editha was 
coming to spend a few days with them before 


The Bower Maiden. 


49 


he left for Crowland. Her visits were always 
looked forward to with joyful anticipation by 
the whole family, and now that the matter was 
finally settled for him to become a monk, he was 
not in such a hurry to tear himself from those 
he loved as to complain of this delay. 

Many of Eric’s household fasted on Friday 
as strictly as the monks of Crowland, and on 
that day the family confessor spent some hpurs 
in the homely little chapel hearing their con- 
fessions, appointing their penances, and teach- 
ing them some legend of the saints or virgin. 
If he taught them little it was not surprising, 
for he could neither read nor write, and recited 
the tales he had heard as a school-boy might a 
task, anxious only to get through it and return 
home to his wife with the savory pie or joint of 
fat pork Elswitha had prepared for him. Be- 
tween Leofwine and the family priest there was 
little sympathy, for the good man was half 
afraid of his penitent now that he was master 
of so much ''worldly learning” as to be able to 
read the psalter in his native English, and often 
shook his head and gave him sundry warnings 
about being puffed up with earthly knowledge. 
To hear that he was now about to become a 
monk disturbed Father Brand most seriously, 
for between the monks and the married clergy 


50 


Leofwine. 


of the Church there had always been a secret, 
though deep antagonism. 

'‘I am sorry, my son, I grieve for thee, my 
daughter,'' -he said, gravely shaking his head, 
when Elswitha and Leofwine had told him of 
the coming change. 

The young man was not surprised, but Els- 
witha seemed deeply grieved, for she looked 
upon the life of the monastery as the holiest 
on earth, and it was her sole comfort in the 
thought of separation from her son. But Fa- 
ther Brand gravely shook his head. The 
monastery is the hard, cold, unnatural bane of 
social happiness and free manhood ! " he ex- 
claimed. ‘^That great scholar, Bede, whose 
name is as sacred as any saint's, though himself 
a monk, denounced the system utterly as lead- 
ing to corruption and evil instead of holiness, 
and the domination which these monks claim 
over all other men will lead to greater tyranny 
still in our free Saxon Church." 

In these last words Leofwine and his mother 
both saw the latent jealousy that the old man 
entertained against the monks as the conserv- 
ators of learning, and if he had been less igno- 
rant his words, which were wise and founded on 
a great truth, would have had more weight with 
his hearers. As it was, they regarded them as 


The Bower Maiden, 51 

only spiteful and untrue, and Elswitha almost 
determined to make a change in this part of her 
household, and to send for a monk from Crow- 
land to become their father confessor. 

But the annoyance she felt at Brand’s words 
was soon forgotten in the joy of meeting her 
daughter Editha, who arrived from Bourne a 
few hours afterward. Editha had brought a 
request from her mistress, too, which almost 
made the mother’s heart stand still, for it was to 
ask her to give up her daughter Githa, next in 
age to Alric, to become bower maiden to the 
countess Godiva’s granddaughter, Aldytha, who 
was now on a visit to Bourne after a year’s 
residence in Wessex. 

Did the Lady Aldytha ever go to London } ” 
asked Githa when she heard the news. 

‘‘Yes, and thou mayest go, too, my sister, for 
Earl Alfgar is very unsettled now that the great 
Earl Godwin and his family have returned from 
their outlawry, and dispossessed him of his 
lordship of Wessex.” 

“ Nay, but it was the Godwins’ before it was 
our earl’s son’s, and though we have no great 
love for this king-making earl, right is right, my 
sister,” said Leofwine. 

“ Hast thou heard any news conceining our 

saint king ? inquired her mother. 

4 


^2 


Leofwine. 


r 

His sister shook her head. ‘'Aldytha did 
not go to the Court at Westminster during her 
stay in London, but she saw many wonderful 
sights there, such as have not been heard of in 
our Bruneswald. Didst thou ever hear of the 
paynim Saracens, who worship a false prophet 
they call Mohammed, and pray to the rising sun> 
Leofwine ? asked Editha. 

I have heard from the good fathers of Crow- 
land of the Saracens who have taken the holy 
city, Jerusalem, and done many evil things to 
the pilgrims journeying thither, even trying to 
make them worship their false prophet, and join 
in their Arab superstitions,” said Leofwine. 

Well, many of these same Saracens are in 
London ; wealthy traders they are, too, although 
Aldytha says they are fierce and evil-looking, 
with their sharp, black eyes, burned, brown skin, 
and outlandish dress.” 

What else did the Lady Aldytha see in Lon- 
don ? ” asked Githa, as if considering whether 
the sight of these strange and wonderful people 
would compensate for leaving her home and 
family. 

There were gleemen with wonderful bears 
and monkeys, and pleasant gardens near Lon- 
don Bridge where the citizens could .sit and 
drink hippocras and ale, and there were great 


The Bow. r Maiden, 5 3 

ladies and rich thanes, dressed like the Normans 
of whom King Edward is so fond.” 

‘'King Edward’s mother was a Norman lady, 
and our king was brought up in the Norman 
Court, and speaks that tongue better than his 
own English,” put in Leofwine. 

“Yes, and it is whispered that the late visit 
of William, count of the Normans, was to per- 
suade our king to appoint him, the count, as his 
successor to the throne of England.” 

“ Nay, nay, Editha, thou hast not heard aright 
in this,” said Leofwine with a short laugh. “ A 
Norman count on the throne of England ! Nay, 
nay ; neither Dane nor Saxon would brook that 
disgrace.” 

“Disgrace!” repeated Editha; “my noble 
mistress saith that the disgrace, as thou art 
pleased to call it, hath already commenced, for 
England is half Norman now in language and 
dress, and that it pleased Count William well 
to see our English thanes cutting their garments 
and their beards short as his own.” 

“But it would not please our thanes to see 
Count William in the seat of our saint king,’’ 
replied her brother. 

“ They may not have any choice in the mat- 
ter,” retorted Editha. 

Elswitha seeing a dispute was likely to ensue 


54 


Leofwine. 


asked her daughter about the method of dry- 
ing sweet herbs to strew among the rushes 
over the floors, and while this was being ex- 
plained the question of who should succeed King 
Edward was for a time forgotten, for the next 
question to arise was the betrothal of Aldytha, 
for news had reached the Bruneswald that she 
was to be given to Harold Godwin’s son, while 
her father was to receive as the morgen gift the 
interest of Harold with the king for another earl- 
dom in place of Wessex. Others said that Earl 
Alfgar aimed higher even than this for his beau- 
tiful young daughter, and that she was to wed 
Gryffyth, king of Wales. 

Editha had heard both these reports, but she 
believed neither, for Aldytha herself had not 
heard any thing, and often spoke of Earl Harold 
as the wisest man and greatest hero she had ever 
heard of. His men of Wessex almost wor- 
ship him,” said Editha, ''and he is strong and 
handsome as Lord Hereward himself” 

" Hast thou heard aught concerning Lord 
Hereward of late.'^” asked Leofwine eagerly; 
and then he explained to his sister that he was 
about to enter the monastery of Crowland, not to 
remain there, but to travel forth as a pilgrim to 
all the great cities of the world until he found 
his brother Alric. 


The Bower Maiden. 


55 


The young lady opened her eyes in aston- 
ishment. Thou art going to search for Alric, 
and bring him home again ! ” she repeated, as 
if scarce believing what she had heard, and she 
appealed to her mother for confirmation of the 
fact. 

Elswitha tried to smile as she bowed her 
head in assent, but the tears rose to her eyes 
instead, as she said, I scarce know how I shall 
spare Githa, even to please the Lady Godiva, 
since I shall lose my Leofwine so soon.*' 

‘‘ Nay, my mother, thou wilt but exchange 
thy sons,” said Leofwine quickly ; and Editha 
joined with him in persuading her to give up 
Githa if their father was likewise willing she 
should go. 

But an unexpected obstacle met them here, 
for Eric at first refused to consent to the ar- 
rangement. He was Leofric’s man, he said, 
and the great earl could command him in life 
and limb, in war and witan ; but to Earl Alfgar 
he owed no service yet, and he had been wild 
and unsettled since he lost the earldom of 
Wessex by the return of the Godwins ; and he 
had no thought of trusting his daughter to be- 
come bower maiden to a lady who had scarcely 
a roof to shelter her, even though she was 
granddaughter to Lady Godiva. 


56 


Leofwine. 


^'Nay, but, my father, the Lady Aldytha is 
to abide with us at Bourne until Earl Alfgar 
obtains another lordship from the king,” said 
Editha quickly. 

Long will he have to wait for that,” grum- 
bled Eric, ‘'for this driveler at Westminster 
loves to parcel out his land to Norman shave- 
lings too well for an English thane to obtain 
aught save monkish advice. All England will 
be given to the intruder soon, and its treasures, 
that should be spent in defending our shores 
from the inroads of sea or foe, is spent among 
relic mongers for old rags and bones.” 

“ But, my father, King Edward must listen 
to the petition of Earl Alfgar, for it was through 
our great Leofric, his father, as much as Earl 
Godwin, that he obtained the throne of En- 
gland,” said Editha. 

“ Thou art growing learned in state-craft, 
child,” replied Eric ; “ but I am not so sure as 
thou art that Alfgar will get his petition.” 

“But if he does, and Aldytha has a stately 
home becoming her rank, thou wilt let Githa 
become her bower maiden,” pleaded the girl, for 
she could see that her sister wished this, and her 
mother’s consent had been already won. 

After a little more coaxing and pleading Eric 
consented, and this point gained, it was easy to 


The Bower Maiden, 


57 


persuade him to let Githa go back with Editha 
to Bourne to begin at once learning the duties 
of bower maiden. 

“ There is so much to learn, you know, my 
father,” went on Editha, ^Tor the laying out of 
garments to be given to the poor, and the plac- 
ing bread ready for our lady’s hand as she sits 
at the gate to distribute it to the poor folk, is 
the duty of a bower maiden in these days, as 
well as spinning and embroidery, and the dry- 
ing of herbs and rushes for the floors.” 

“ Githa must, doubtless, learn all womanly 
nonsense if she is to be bower maiden to this 
proud beauty, Aldytha, and, doubtless, thou 
canst teach her ; but — ” 

Editha placed her hand playfully before his 
lips and stopped the rest of the sentence from 
being spoken. There, that is enough,” she 
said. “ Thou wilt suffer her to come back with 
me and being a favorite of her father, the 
bold speech and action were alike forgiven, and 
Editha carried the point. 

The rest of the evening was given up to the 
discussion of Saracens and dragons, beings who 
were supposed to partake of similar natures, 
and might be met with anywhere beyond the 
boundary of their little world of the Danelagh. 
Leof wine’s ideas about these things were rather 


58 


Leofwine. 


more clear than his sister’s, but still they were 
confused enough ; and while he sat listening to 
the merry chatter going on around him he 
mixed paints and pigments for the finishing of 
his psalter, and thought of what he should meet 
with when, the days of his novitiate at Crowland 
being over, he should set forth in the garb of a 
pilgrim to search for his brother, and finding- 
him, to resign into his hands his own birthright. 
He hoped then to visit the holy city, Rome, 
which he fancied contained so many blessed 
relics of the saints and martyrs, as to make it 
almost as holy as Jerusalem itself. 


Life at Crowland, 


59 


CHAPTER V. 

LIFE AT CROWLAND. 

lOFWINE had often looked longingly to- 



J — ' ward the minster of Crowland, and thought 
of the wonders contained in the monastery li- 
brary ; but when, at length, the time came for 
him to take up his abode there, and leave all 
the dear home scenes and active duties in which 
he had been engaged, the life of a monk lost 
much of its charm. 

But when, a little later, the novelty of his 
new life had worn off, the monotony of it 
struck a chill to his heart such as he had never 
known before. At two o'clock in the morning 
the bell tolled for matins, when every monk rose, 
and, after performing his private devotions, has- 
tened to the church, where fifteen psalms were 
sung. Then came a service of devotion called 
the nocUirny and more psalms. A short time 
elapsed before lauds were commenced, during 
which those who wished might retire from the 
church. Lauds were usually completed by six 
o’clock, when the bell rang for prime. After 
this the monks continued reading in the church 


6o 


Leofwine. 


until seven o’clock, when they retired and put 
on their day clothes. Breakfast followed, at 
which the strictest routine was observed. A 
bell was rung by the sub-prior, and the monks 
filed into the great hall, and, bowing to the high 
table, stood in their places until, at a sign from 
the sub-prior, they all sat down. A psalm was 
sung and a short service followed by way of 
grace, and after the blessing had been given by 
the sub-prior the food was handed round. 

There was as great a difference here in 
Crowland refectory hall in the arrangement of 
the tables and the division of the monks, as 
there had been at home among the house-carls 
and slaves, and Leofwine found himself at the 
lower end of the hall here instead of the upper. 
The abbot and priors only sat at the upper 
table ; the next was for the priests, the next for 
those who had taken orders, and the lower one 
for the lay brethren, among whom was Leof- 
wine. 

After the meal was over a psalm was sung, 
and the monks retired two by two singing the 
miserere^ and at nine o’clock they gathered in 
the church again for tierce. After tierce came 
morning mass, and this over, they marched 
to the chapter house for business and the 
correction of faults. They then worked till 


Life at Crowland. 6i 

twelve — some in the scriptorium^ copying books, 
missals, psalters, the Scriptures, and works of 
theology — some studied the works of the great 
English monk, Bede, or puzzled over some 
Latin transcript of Arabic lore on the uses of 
plants in the art of healing. All too short was 
the time allowed for this to Leofwine, and the 
two or three like him who loved learning for its 
own sake, for at twelve o’clock the bell sum- 
moned them to the church again for sext, and 
this service over they dined, and might then 
retire to the dormitory for an hour’s sleep, un- 
less they preferred reading, which was not very 
often possible, for having risen at two they 
were by this time wearied. Nones commenced 
at three, first vespers at four ; after which 
they were at liberty to read or work again until 
second vespers at seven. After this, reading 
followed until supper ; then came the service of 
compline, the confession of sins, and evening 
prayer, and then all retired to rest about nine 
o’clock. 

After the first week this long series of prayers 
and formal services became an utter weariness 
to Leofwine, and he soon began to begrudge the 
time spent in the church, and to look upon it 
as so much taken from his beloved study. He 
had begun to learn Latin and Greek now, in 


62 


Leofwine. 


addition to English, and if he dared, he would 
have taken some of his books into the church 
with him, and continued his studies there, 
only the saints might be offended. St. Guth- 
lac might take it as a positive insult, and this 
fear made Leofwine chary of taking world- 
ly learning ” within the sacred precincts of the 
church, although he often wished himself back in 
his mother’s bower, or in some glade of the woods 
when the bell rung for sext or vespers, thus com- 
pelling him to lay aside his beloved studies. 

What a heartless, wearisome life it all seemed 
here in the monastery — not life at all, for life 
is progress, and here there seemed only the 
death-like uniformity of stagnation. Sometimes 
it fell to Leofwine’s turn to distribute alms at 
the monastery gate to the poor folk who gath- 
ered there to receive them ; and in listening to 
their tales of sorrow and sickness, or in watching 
the thin, blue columns of smoke that struggled 
through the thatch from some peat fire on a 
cottage hearth, there seemed to come a gleam 
of life such as he had known in his father’s 
house, and Leofwine would sigh as he turned 
back once more to the dreary monotony of the 
daily round of duties that seemed to be slowly 
freezing and benumbing all the religious aspira- 
tion he had ever known. 


63 


Life at Crow land. 

He often wondered how the elder monks had 
managed to live through so many years, with 
no change in this endless routine of mere me- 
chanical religious services that had long since 
lost (if they had ever possessed any) all the spirit 
of true devotion ; and especially how the young 
men could content themselves in these daily 
and nightly rehearsals of services which neither 
possessed novelty nor yielded spiritual enjoy- 
ment. 

For himself, he would only be at Crowland a 
few months, and then he should see the great 
world beyond their own fens — see what other 
monasteries were like, and hear, perchance, some 
of those great men who seemed to tower above 
all others in their learning. Such a one was 
Beranger, he had heard — a physician and eccle- 
siastic, too, who taught publicly at Tours not 
only the art pf curing men's bodies, but how the 
sickness of their souls might be healed more 
expeditiously than through the intervention of 
saints, or visiting shrines and relics. At least 
this was the report brought to Crowland by a 
palmer who had just returned from a pilgrim- 
age to Jerusalem and Rome, and had journeyed 
through France, and heard Beranger. The el- 
der monks, indeed, shook their heads and mut- 
tered ominous threats when they heard that 


64 


Leofwine. 


this learned man had openly opposed the doc- 
trine of the mass — had said that the bread and 
wine were not changed into the flesh and blood 
of the Lord Christ ; and Leofwine crossed him- 
self, and half wished he had not heard his 
name since he taught such dangerous doctrine ; 
but he did not join in the angry denunciations 
of the greater number of his brethren, who, be- 
ing very ignorant themselves, stigmatized all 
learning as dangerous, and only a temptation 
of the devil to destroy men’s souls. 

Beranger was cited as a proof of this again 
and again, when, the gossip of the house being 
reported to the prior, he publicly announced to 
them, when the usual chapter-house business 
was concluded, that Beranger had been excom- 
municated by the holy father three years before 
for teaching such dangerous heresy. No one 
dared to say a word in favor of a man con- 
demned by the pope, and Leofwine now hoped 
he might not meet with him during his journey- 
ings ; and yet, with a persistence that was quite 
unaccountable to him, the thought of Beranger 
and his strange, dangerous doctrine obtruded 
themselves upon his mind at most unseason- 
able hours. At nocturn and at sext^ at mass and 
compline, it was all the same ; his mind recurred 
to the same question that had been puzzled over 


65 


Life at Crowland. 

by the conclave of cardinals at Rome, and one 
that was doomed to vex the world through com- 
ing ages — the question of transubstantiation, 
which Beranger insisted was false, and opposed 
with all the might of his learning. Leofwine, 
with the superstition common at that time, be- 
gan to fear he was bewitched ; for, although he 
duly crossed himself as a charm against this 
will of the evil one, his thoughts would stray to 
the forbidden subject even while his lips pro- 
nounced the accustomed words of prayer, until 
at length he resolved to confess himself the vic- 
tim of witchcraft, for in no other way could he 
account for the strange hold this subject had 
gained upon his mind. 

To his confessor he therefore went with his 
story of mental disquiet, hoping he would ap- 
point him some penance that would break the 
spell that held him captive. The subject, how- 
ever, was one too serious to be passed over so 
lightly, and after gravely warning Leofwine 
against the neglect of any known duties, he 
told him the prior must be informed of this 
matter in full chapter of the brethren. Leof- 
wine felt vexed, but dare not disobey his spirit- 
ual guide, however much he might dislike ex- 
posing his secret thoughts to all the ignorant 
monks ; for they were lamentably ignorant, and 


66 


Leofwine. 


proud of their ignorance, too, looking with sus- 
picion upon all learning as tending to worldli- 
ness, witchcraft, and atheism. Leofwine had 
already fallen under their displeasure for the 
contempt he showed for the gossip and small 
scandals they loved to discuss, and his intense 
application to study, so that he was not likely 
to be judged very leniently by his brethren, 
whatever the prior’s views might be upon the 
matter. 

Chapter-house business was generally dull 
enough, and so when the old monk, Leofwine’s 
confessor, arose and said that he feared one of 
the younger brethren had fallen under demoni- 
acal possession, there was quite a stir of interest 
among the serge-clad brotherhood, and each 
turned to his neighbor mutely asking who could 
it be now under the spells of witchcraft. Such 
a thing was not altogether unknown, even among 
monks ; but there was generally some shameful 
story underlying it, and some innocent victim 
besides the “witch” to be adjudged guilty; and 
it was, therefore, with more than usual surprise 
that they sat and listened to Leofwine’s rather 
confused account of his witch troubles. 

The prior, however, looked grave when he 
heard the name of Beranger, and found that it 
was his unorthodox opinions that were troubling 


6 / 


Life at Crow land. 

the mind of his penitent ; but there was an evi- 
dent relief when he heard that it was the per- 
sistent return of these thoughts during the long 
seasons of devotion that specially troubled the 
young man ; but he still shook his head gravely 
as Leofwine bowed on concluding his recital. 
“ Hast thou ever sought counsel or held com- 
munication with one accounted to be a witch 
or wise woman } ” asked the prior. 

Leofwine was about to answer no, but at 
the words “ wise woman ” he started, and some- 
thing like a guilty blush overspread his pale 
face. Surely, he had heard the term wise 
woman ” applied to the old creature whose bun- 
dle of sticks he had sometimes carried through 
the woods. The heightened color had been 
seen and noted by the numerous eyes fixed upon 
him, and the prior himself looked suspicious 
now, as he said, rather sternly, ''Speak the truth, 
or thou shalt be tried by ordeal, that it may be 
known unto all men.’^ 

'' Holy father, I have no thought but to speak 
all that I know concerning this matter. While 
I was still in the world, dwelling in my father’s 
house, I spent many hours in the woods search- 
ing for rare herbs, and watching the ways of the 
birds and squirrels, and I there met many times 
a woman, old and bent, whose burden I have 


68 


Leofwine. 


borne for her, being, as it was, a load of sticks 
too heavy for her feeble strength to carry.” 

And didst thou never carry other than wood 
for this creature ? ” asked the sub-prior. 

Nay, I think not, unless it might be a hand- 
ful of simples I had myself gathered,” answered 
Leofwine. 

A slight sensation ran through the audience 
as he spoke, and the prior asked, Didst thou 
know she was one who practiced magical arts 
when thou gavest her the herbs 

‘‘Nay, holy father; it was not until just be- 
fore I came to the monastery that I heard from 
my father’s house-carls of a witch dwelling in 
our Bruneswald, and when I heard one describe 
the look of the witch, I greatly feared I had 
seen and spoken with her.” 

“ And wert thou not afraid, then, that thou 
wouldst be bewitched for thy dealings with 
her } ” asked the prior. 

“ Nay ; I thought not of the matter until — 
until these evil thoughts came upon me,” re- 
plied Leofwine. 

Other questions were slsked about the old 
woman, and where she dwelt ; but Leofwine 
knew so little of her, or those who visited her 
dwelling, that he could not give them much in- 
formation upon this, and at last the chapter 


Life at Crow land. 


69 


broke up, the monks looking solemn and mys- 
terious, and carefully avoiding all contact with 
Leofwine, for their prior had not yet delivered 
judgment upon this important matter, and each 
wondered how it would terminate. Would the 
accused be subjected to the trial by ordeal or 
judgment of God to prove his innocence of all 
further complicity with the witch ? and if so, 
which mode would be adopted ? Would he be 
made to grasp the red-hot iron in his hands, or 
walk blindfold and barefoot over nine red-hot 
plowshares ? or would the more simple usage 
of eating a morsel of consecrated bread be se- 
lected ? If guilty, it was believed this crumb 
of bread would choke the accused, which saved 
the accusers all further trouble in the matter; 
but if the red-hot iron test was adopted the state 
of the hands or feet after being bound up by the 
priest and left for three days was the supposed 
unerring guide as to his innocence or guilt, and 
he was then acquitted, punished, or put to death, 
according to the will of his judges. 

The prior of Crowland, though by no means 
an ignorant man, was almost as deeply imbued 
with the superstition of the age as any monk or 
lay brother in the monastery, and this confes- 
sion of Leofwine’s in its latter stage puzzled 
him greatly. He was not surprised that the 


70 


Leofwine. 


palmer’s gossip concerning Beranger had taken 
a deep hold upon his mind, for he knew Leof- 
wine’s intense desire to acquire knowledge — 
especially the knowledge of medicine. He had 
noticed, too, that the look of deep, earnest rever- 
ence with which he first engaged in the prayers 
and other services of the Church had gradually 
faded into one of weariness, and how eagerly he 
had hurried from the church or chapter-house 
to the library to commence his studies ; so that 
his mind, not being occupied very deeply in the 
service in which he was engaged, it was natural 
that it should wander to this subject, connected 
as it was with the great desire of his life. This 
had been the prior’s surmise, and the correct 
one, until Leofwine’s mention of the witch, and 
that altered the whole matter. He had heard 
of this witch before ; had heard that she was 
secretly encouraged to stay in the Danelagh 
by the great earl himself, and one or two of 
his principal thanes, Eric being one of the 
number. 

Now if he could catch this witch and proceed 
against her as the Church directed, it would 
gain his monastery great renown for vigilance 
and care for the souls of men ; and thinking 
thus, the prior almost decided to order the plow- 
shares to be brought out and heated ; but a sec- 


n 


Life at Crowland, 

ond thought bade him be careful how he acted 
in this matter, for Leofwine was not a mere 
.carl or slave, but the son of a powerful thane. 
To proceed against a witch, too, whom the 
great earl protected, might not be altogether 
pleasing to the Lady Godiva, and Elswitha 
would certainly be offended if her beloved son 
were hurt ; and she had been to Crowland to 
church lately, and had chosen a monk for her 
family confessor instead of the married priest, 
Brand ; which mundane considerations had no 
little weight in the judging this spiritual matter, 
and caused several to hold up their hands in 
astonishment — almost horror — when, after as- 
sembling in the chapter-house the next day, the 
prior adjudged Leofwine not to be present at 
any of the services in the church, but to spend 
the intervals between meals in study, and to 
pursue his private devotions in his own cell 
during the time from noctur7i to lauds. Noth- 
ing could be more agreeable to Leofwine than 
such an arrangement as this ; but he, like his 
brethren, was greatly surprised at it, not know- 
ing the secret cause of such unwonted leniency. 


72 


Leofwine. 


CHAPTER VT 

THE ACCUSATION. 

winter and early spring was passed in 



-L the quiet seclusion of Crowland, and Leof- 
wine began to love the range of high-peaked 
buildings founded on their wood piles driven 
into the fen ; and though some of his fellow- 
monks might look upon him with suspicion, 
there were always some glad to talk to him — 
the aged brethren, who did little now but sun 
themselves under the south wall, or sit in the 
x:loister and watch the children as they came to 
and fro from school — for they had heard noth- 
ing of that dark suspicion of witchcraft, as it 
was the law of Crowland that nothing unpleas- 
ant should be mentioned in their presence ; so 
to these, and the criminals who had saved their 
lives by fleeing to the shrine of St. Guthlac, 
and now gained an honest living by fishing in 
the rivers and selling the proceeds to the mon- 
astery, Leofwine could speak without feeling that 
his words were watched ; but if he went into the 
workshops, where tailoring or carpentering went 
on, or to the bakehouse or brew-house, as he 


The Acctisation. 


73 


sometimes did, the monks engaged in these 
handicrafts would invariably shrink away as if 
half afraid of him, so that only with his beloved 
books did he feel perfectly free. 

But at last the time came for him to bid fare- 
well to the peaceful retreat of St. Guthlac, and 
as he got into the boat that was to take him 
from the sacred isle” back to the world once 
more, he could not restrain a sigh of regret, for 
what changes might there not be ere he re- 
turned to end his days, as he surely would, 
within those walls that were to him the holiest 
he had known, in spite of all the disappointments 
he had met with since he had been there. 

So the boat sped on through stream and 
mere, where the water-fowl lay among the 
rushes on the banks between the dark green 
alders and tall reeds, leaving the island of peace 
farther and farther in the distance as they neared 
the world where the rush and tumult of life beat 
with its deafening roar. 

All the Danelagh was astir this pleasant 
spring day, for Earl Leofric, with his thanes, 
and lithsmen, and house-carls, was about to 
start on his journey to Windshore, where King 
Edward held his Court this Easter. Eric was, 
of course, one of the train, for he had a seat in 
the witan, or great council of the nation, as well 


74 


Leofwine. 


as his liege lord, and it was his special wish that 
Leofwine should set out on his journey at the 
same time and travel with them to the Court of 
the saint king. Some dim idea that Edward 
would be able to speed him on his journey, or 
recommend him to the notice of the holy father 
when he should reach Rome, floated through 
his mind, for, disappointed as he was in his 
eldest son’s choice, he was still ambitious for 
him. If he was to be a monk, well, he must ; 
but if things were managed properly he need 
not remain insignificant and unknown. With 
the clerkly learning he possessed already — he 
being able to read and write — surely he would 
become a prior or an abbot some day, and bear 
rule over acres as broad as those of Bourne 
itself. 

These were the dreams of Eric for his son 
while he stood at the gate of the court-yard and 
watched for his coming across the fen. Els- 
witha, too, was watching for him, but it was at 
the shrine of the Virgin, in the little chapel ad- 
joining her bower, where she poured out her 
prayers and supplications to God for the suc- 
cess of his journey — that he might find Alric, 
and return in peace to the seclusion of St. Guth- 
lac’s minster in the isle of peace ; and her prayer 
was answered, but not in the way she antici- 


The Acaisation. 


75 


pated. God gives better things than we ask 
very often, and he had a better peace than that 
of St. Guthlac to bestow upon Leofwine, but it 
could not come just yet. 

Eric was more affectionate in his greeting 
than Leofwine had ever known him, and he felt 
glad, as he noticed this, that he had postponed 
his journey to please his father, although he had 
felt averse to traveling in the great- earl’s train 
when it was first proposed to him. 

To meet his mother once more was an unal- 
loyed joy, and his sisters had both sent him 
kind remembrances from Bourne, for Githa had 
entered the service of the Lady Aldytha now, 
but had not forgotten her beloved brother in 
her new duties of a bower maiden. 

His stay at home, however, was a very short 
one, for the earl had completed his arrange- 
ments, and Eric was impatient to join the train 
of his chief, so the low-rolling uplands of the 
Danelagh were soon left behind, and the train 
of lithsmen and house-carls, in their plain Saxon 
tunics, while their chiefs were distinguished by 
the rather cumbrous gonnay worn on state oc- 
casions, and the heavy gold bracelets on their 
arms. Leofwine, in the garb of a pilgrim, with 
staff and scallop-shell, carried his bracelets and 
heavy gold tocque concealed beneath his clothes, 


I 


76 


Leofwine. 


to be delivered to his brother, and he would fain 
have lingered behind as they traveled along the 
great road made by the Romans ten centuries 
before, for there was little in common between 
himself and the company of the earl. 

But Eric was determined that Leofwine 
should be seen and noticed by his chief at least, 
and so he urged on the palfrey which Leofwine 
rode, and made it keep pace with his own more 
powerful horse, and, as he expected, they were 
soon joined by the Earl of Mercia himself. The 
old man looked anxious and careworn, and the 
cause of this he soon disclosed to his trusty 
thane, Eric. 

Godwin and his sons will be present at 
this witan,” he said, “and I scarcely feel equal 
to opposing my old foe as I once did.” 

“ But it may be Godwin will not need opposi- 
tion. Ye are old men now, both of ye, and true 
Englishmen at heart.” 

“ The only things we are not opposed to each 
other in is, our hatred of Normans and of those 
French fashions that our young men love to copy. 
There is Leofwine, now ; if he were not a monk 
he would doubtless run off to buy a Norman 
tunic as soon as he got into London city, and 
have his hair cropped in the Norman fashion,” 

“ I care not for the cut of the garment so 


The Acciisatiofi. 


77 


that men are true Englishmen at heart,” said 
Eric, ‘‘and monk though Leofwine may be, I 
trust he will ever remember he was his coun- 
try’s man before he struck hands with the 
Church.” 

“ I would we could make our monkish king 
thiuk thus ; there would be less treasure spent 
on relics and more on our defenses.” 

“ English hearts must defend English homes,’' 
said Eric bluntly. 

“ Aided by God and his saints,” put in Leof- 
ric. “ I sometimes fear our sons — ” 

“Nay, nay, fear not for Earl Alfgar,” said 
Eric ; “ he is restless, but thou must remember 
he is dispossessed of his earldom by the return 
of the Godwins ; but if the king will give him 
another lordship he will no longer cause thee 
disquiet.” 

“ I fear he will disquiet all England if the king 
bestows the lands of Sweyn, Godwin’s son, on his 
Norman favorites or shaveling monks, for Alf- 
gar is growing impatient, and I fear will join the 
Welsh king, Gryffyth.” 

Both Eric and Leofwine started at this news, 
for if this alliance took place it would probably 
be ratified by the marriage of the Lady Aldytha 
and the fierce Gryffyth, and then Githa would 
be expected to accompany her to her savage 


78 


Leofwine. 


home in the mountains. Neither, however 
spoke of what was passing in their minds, and 
the old earl was soon talking of the Godwins 
again, and the growing power of Harold, who 
was the favorite not only of the king, but of all 
true-hearted Englishmen who knew him. It was 
only natural that Earl Leofric should wish his son 
stood where Harold, Godwin’s son, now did, but 
he slowly shook his head even as he uttered the 
wish, and, rivals though they were, he did not 
conceal the admiration he felt for the son of his 
old foe, and as he mused on all he had heard and 
seen at the last witan, when Harold with the 
rest of his family were inlawed, a sudden idea 
seemed to seize him, and he hastily turned to 
Eric with the question, If our lord the king 
were to die, whom thinkest thou would mount 
the throne next } ” 

The question was so sudden, and the old earl 
seemed so earnest, that for a moment Eric 
could only stare, and look round him in perplex- 
ity. He is the last of the royal line of Cerdic,” 
he said at length. 

The last save the Atheling, who is now 
at the Court of the German emperor, and 
less an Englishman than Edward himself, if all 
be true that is said concerning him,” replied 
Leofric. 


The Accusation, 79 

‘‘But he is of the old line — a son of the 
trusty Ironsides,” debated Eric. 

“ He is, but I doubt whether Godwin would 
help him to take the seat of Edward ; and, fail- 
ing him, there is only the king’s brother-in-law, 
descended through his mother from the old Dan- 
ish royalties — the man whose voice is most pow- 
erful in witan and in war — the man whom all 
Englishmen love and trust because he loves 
England better than he loves himself” 

“ Of whom speakest thou } ” asked Eric. 

“ Of whom but of Harold, Godwin’s son. 
Eric, if England could have her choice of a king, 
Harold would be chosen, and Leofric would not 
oppose the choice,” added the old man in an im- 
pressive tone. 

Eric looked at his chief in blank amazement, 
unable to answer for the surprise he felt at this 
generous outburst of admiration for a man to 
whom he had always been opposed in council 
and in the field. At length he asked, “ Hast thou 
heard other men speak of this matter } ” 

“I have heard it whispered more than once, 
but none speak openly of this as yet ; and be not 
too open thyself, Eric. And thou, Leofwine, if 
thou shouldst meet with thy brother Alric, be 
cautious ; for thou knowest that he, like Here- 
ward, my misguided son, is of a temper hot and 


8o 


Leofwine. 


hasty, and the name of a Godwin would win 
small favor with them.” 

“ I will be wary in all that I say to my broth- 
er or Lord Here ward, should I meet with them.” 

He would fain have asked if he might not 
be the bearer of some message from either the 
Lady Godiva or himself to the young out- 
law, but scarcely dared to frame the question, 
so stern did the old man look as he mentioned 
his son’s name — as stern as when he denounced 
that son to the king as a breaker of the laws, 
though he knew the penalty would be outlawry. 

The conversation now turned upon Leof- 
wine’s journey, and the earl readily promised 
to secure the king’s favor for him, for he knew 
that nothing pleased him so well as to hear of 
one setting off on a pilgrimage, unless it was to 
secure relics of the saints and martyrs for his 
churches and abbeys when he returned. 

At last they drew near the great city, about 
which Leofwine had often heard his sister talk, 
and some of the strange sights he had heard 
described he now saw for himself, for before 
the gates were reached he caught sight of a 
gleeman with a bear and monkey, who, on the 
vacant space near a convent garden wall, was 
exhibiting them to a gaping crowd. Inside the 
walls of the city men seemed busy enough, fol- 


The Accusation, 


8i 


lowing their handicrafts, or buying and selling. 
There were people of all nations here, too — 
Normans, with their short tunics, cropped 
beards, and smooth, bland manner of speech, 
which yet seemed to provoke the blunt, out- 
spoken English citizen into more than usual 
roughness. There were merchants from Flan- 
ders, and Moorish cooks from Spain, and grave, 
stately Saracens, at the sight of whom Leofwine 
crossed himself, wondering whether it was true 
that they did worship the sun as well as their 
prophet Mohammed. Altogether they were a 
strange people, these Saracens, for, conquerors 
or conquered, they always continued to force 
their religion upon the people they dwelt 
among, and Leofwine wondered whether these 
grave, stately merchants were not spies sent to 
reconnoiter before an army came to conquer 
England, as they had conquered Egypt and 
Spain, besides the Holy Land. The thought 
of the sacred city, Jerusalem, being in the hands 
of paynim Saracens, caused Leofwine a deep 
sigh of regret, and he wondered why the em- 
peror of Constantinople and the holy father 
at Rome did not unite their forces to drive 
them away and rescue the city, and throw down 
the mosque that had been built on Mount Cal- 
vary. He ventured to say something about 


82 


Leofwine. 


this to his father, but Eric smiled at the idea. 

The emperor has enough to do in Constanti- 
nople, as well as the holy father in Rome,” he 
said; ''and as for England, the Saracens are 
less to be feared than these smooth-spoken 
Normans, who have beguiled our king s heart 
from us, so that he is. ready to give even his 
crown to a Norman, if he dared.” 

Eric little knew how near the truth he was 
speaking when he said these words, for he was 
not thinking of or fearing the advent of a for- 
eigner in the halls of Westminster, but wonder- 
ing how Earl Alfgar would like it if Harold, 
Godwin’s son, were to succeed their childless 
king. 

That the old earl had not spoken without 
good reason he was soon convinced, for having 
some business to transact in London before go- 
ing on to Windshore, he took the opportunity 
of questioning many of the citizens concerning 
Earl Harold, and found that almost to a man 
they believed in him implicitly — he was' the 
joy of the carls and the pride of the thanes, not 
only of his own lordship of Wessex, but of all 
England who had heard his fame and knew his 
worth. 

"All that Earl Harold hath done for our 
merrie England hath been wise and just ; and 


The Accusation, 


83 


even though he should propose what I thought 
not wise, I should deem it my own want of un- 
derstanding, and follow his counsel rather than 
mine own judgment.” So spake the free bur- 
gesses of London, and Eric knew from that day 
that whoever might sit on the throne of En- 
gland a Godwin’s son would rule in the hearts 
of Englishmen. 

Sitting upon the green that adjoined the 
famous cooks’ booths, near London Bridge, 
Eric overheard more of the citizens’ gossip, 
which naturally turned upon the same topic, as 
most of them had come out to see the great 
earl and his four sons set forth on their journey 
to the Court at Windshore. Little thought the 
gossiping crowd, as they discussed the merits 
of the old chieftain, that this journey was the 
last he would ever take ; and little thought Eric 
that the man he had learned to look upon as 
his foe would soon lie stark and dead before a 
word could be uttered in the witan he had gone 
to attend. 

The stay of Earl Leofric and his compan- 
ions in London was only a short one, but 
Earl Godwin and his sons had reached Wind- 
shore before they set out, and before the 
rude building that was half palace, half monas- 
tery was reached, where Edward now held his 
6 


84 


Leofwine. 


Court, they were met with the news that Earl 
Godwin had been seized with a sudden and 
mysterious illness as he sat at meat with the 
king on the day of his arrival. There were 
whispers of its being a direct judgment from 
heaven, especially among the priests and monks, 
who had no love for the earl ; but whether it 
was this or the more natural fit of apoplexy, the 
old man breathed his last in the arms of his 
son Harold a few days afterward, and Leofric 
of Mercia went in to see the dead, and spoke 
words of peace and blessing to Harold that 
would have rejoiced the mighty heart now still 
could it have heard them. 


The World's New Power. 


85 


CHAPTER VII. 

THE WORLD’S NEW POWER. 

W HILE Leofwine tarried about the Court 
at Windshore, he met two monks just 
returning to their monastery from a pilgrimage 
through all the villages and hamlets of Wes- 
sex, Sussex, and the south coast — a pilgrimage 
undertaken from pure love to the poor serfs 
who were sold in the slave-market of Bristol, 
or to the Saracen merchants, who shipped hun- 
dreds of English girls and boys to foreign mer- 
chants every year. Abbots and thanes had 
alike been guilty of this infamous traffic, until 
Osgood and Ailred, two low-born but heaven- 
inspired monks, went forth to preach the then 
strange doctrine that God would have all men 
free, and that to emancipate their slaves was 
not only a meritorious act but a positive duty. 

It required no small courage to do this, for 
ancient custom and present gain were alike 
urged for its continuance, and it was the rich 
and powerful, and those whom the Church held 
to be holy and blameless, who were the most 
guilty of this abuse of their power. It was not 


86 


Leofwine. 


the first thing Ailred had dared to think for him- 
self upon, instead of following the canons of 
Rome ; for he, like so many of the Saxon clergy, 
had married, and he refused to put away his 
wife, though offered higher preferment in the 
Church to do so. She was dead now, and he 
had taken the cowl to join Osgood in his cru- 
sade on behalf of the serfs, and to vindicate 
still, by his eloquent preaching, the right of all 
men to marry if they pleased, but at the same 
time to denounce the evil lives of many of those 
who opposed this. 

Among the courtiers and ecclesiastics who 
surrounded the monk king these two brave re- 
formers found little favor, and they expected 
less from any of the sons of the great earl who 
had just died, for it was whispered that Godwin, 
like some of his wife's relations, thought more 
of the old gods and heroes, and was more of 
Odin's man than of Christ's, even to the day of 
his death. But to the surprise of every body at 
Windshore Earl Harold, who had been prom- 
ised all the estates and lordships of his father, 
stepped forward to protect by his powerful in- 
fluence the two despised Saxon monks, who 
could boast no learning to recommend them to 
the notice of Norman prelates, or wealth to 
secure the favor of courtiers. 



Earl H arold and the Saxon Monks at the Court of King Edward 




wl-- : '^'^:,'v'^- ' ' ■ 












* ‘ 

.•* 








li"* >*^aJCi* '. • * 

, • r»’. «t 


\ 


• ’ 

!••» I V 




{ . 


( 





> j 


.V'V' . '. - 

^’ . L ^ V ’ 


X 




• -r 




■ V* 


/ I 




'■ AUBl ■ v M>i- -AvV 


■;. \ 

r I 


*f 


V « 




’ » . J 

r- '**^>, 


M’ 






« ’fV 






lV 


» ‘ / 

I • N 

• ' ■ »*4 

Kr ‘‘ : 




l'*. 


> 




,9 


rfll • f ' 

h . , ^ 

I 

'I 




5 f^ 


■.J- <<■•’?.• , 

■ p t • ' • 

^ "il ’ ■ • 


1 * 

I 


, *' 


! • 

* 1 ' 


• » 






. I 


' •* .« I' » ' 
I V ' *• 

i: -»• 




v'-y 




iia; ••■ 


‘ 'if 


'if 




;v 






« 






/ 



V/ 






.» . . - --; 


^ ;i' 


IfTi 




- «. 

. . ^■' 


^ < *• 


r " 





\ y 


S v*' 


» r 


, i 





. 'i 


. . «« <-* ♦ • 


•S*. M 


X' V 


o>:.v.. '*> ' 

■'- ^ - ■ K • 

.«»,•* “ 

-O' 




A 

*v 

•.^.- 


)r 


7 r 


y - -• 






' • ♦ « ' 

• ■ * .» 




'% V 


I ^ 




S t .' 


\rM , 

* I ‘ 




V- 


> . 


>K' 


V. • 


f 


• ' 


I I - 


/• 


W •' « r, 

• •• * .1 ., : 

- -■ 




* 


§P; 


P.-* 


■ » ' v; •<■- 

-/-. It- f 


.f «' 

r» ~ » 


f •' 
- ; 


•.I t'ti^;|vV)L:, ■ 


V 


:'V 


;TvJ; , . 

V »** " 

. * ' > • II •. » 




r : 


\. 


5 

V 


A if'. 






4 * * • , 

' "y^i!:. "k y 

■ ■••Jki. 


'I V. 




. . M X.- 


Vv ^ 
I*”' 


•4 • ‘ I 




« ‘1 


. I •. 


/ ■> * y . 

* ’ /'.Y M ■■? 


. n ’ ,v 
I ■»• 


f iY’' 'tv- ' 

- M , . . . 

rw -v.. 








j 

.1 ' V. 


1 / 


. ' t 


i 


,v' If '•.•■'■ 


..vaV 




, '/fliT:' V a.ij 


■: 


t • 


. 5 / 


i- ' ► 


■f.. ■•'. 




iPL 




*; *’*’ ■ I**" ^■>- 




i%.ir ‘ . ‘ ■ 

' 1 ^' .’'\' 

' f^?r ■ ' ■ 


• » 

I • 


■f. 


• • ’« ' «>*? 

' f :' I 


*,.v, 


■• .r.i 


-JVvV.. 


*i V 








•> . < 


,/i • •>.»' .. • 




■ ■ I'.'V'.i I'*. ! • 




i- 


■'Y'‘ , 


■ ’ -» M/ 

V / ' '■'t- 




‘#•7 



\ 


..I'Kt! 


« 


'M 


, - / i. 

"•• ^ y- ■ 

•■ 1 / '•/.‘r >:* 




'f * 

' /• 


< 





t' ■ '.J - 




.ySN.- Avy^v^c.-.-.v-laft 






The World 's New Power, 89 

“ I would that all our priests were as this 
Ailred ! exclaimed the great earl one day as a 
Norman knight was complaining of his marriage 
as he pulled at his closely cropped hair, that al- 
most rivaled the monk's shaven crown. The 
Norman glanced at Harold, whose flowing beard 
and long, curling hair presented such a striking 
contrast to the fashion of his own, and asked 
why he wished this. 

Because I would have priest and peasant, or 
priest and thane,” he replied, animated with 
such common hopes and joys, that they would 
sympathize and help each other — aye, help each 
other even against the tyranny of the Church, 
if it be needful,” he added, glancing at some of 
the prelates waiting for an audience of the 
king. 

“Then thou dost not favor the monasteries 
and abbeys ? Thou wouldst have learning swept 
from off the earth, and all men as ignorant as — 
as yonder proud thane ! ” he said, pointing to- 
ward one who stood in a distant corner. 

Nay, he is not of thane’s rank, but a six- 
haendman, who can boast of honesty and true 
Saxon kindliness as well as broad lands, though 
he be not skilled in arts that are fit only 
for a clerk ; ” and in token of his respect, the 
earl stepped forward and grasped the horny 


90 


Leofwine. 


hand of the tall Wessex giant, whose features 
were half concealed by a bushy beard and im- 
mense mustache. No daintily dressed dandy 
was he, but, had come to Court in his Saxon 
tunic of hide, that was scarcely concealed by the 
large flowing cloak that was fastened on one 
shoulder, but left bare his brawny throat, that, 
as well as his arms near the wrists, was punctured 
with curious devices in blue and red. 

The Norman knight uttered an exclamation 
of disgust as Harold stepped forward to meet 
this man, and glancing at Leofwine’s pilgrim 
dress and shaven crown, exclaimed, I need not 
ask what thou dost think of the monasteries, 
and of the holy father s command to all priests 
to abstain from marriage ! ” 

'H have not thought much of the question 
of marriage yet, but what would become of 
the world but for the monasteries ? ” asked 
Leofwine. 

The Norman shook his head. Earl Harold 
is great and wise, but he is no friend to the holy 
father at Rome, and would fain order all things 
in the Church according to Saxon usage.’' 

“ Earl Harold is an Englishman,” said Leof- 
wine, somewhat bluntly. 

But the Norman was used to Saxon blunt- 
ness, and went on : ‘‘ The monasteries are the 


The World's New Power, 91 

only schools of learning — the only refuges for 
the poor and sick, the only shelter the traveler 
can often claim in journeying, and yet — ” 

Nay, Earl Harold would not close the mon- 
asteries, I trow, but would fain remove the 
abuses which had grown up in some, and make 
all of them homes of piety, and peace, and in- 
dustry as well as of learning,” said Leofwine. 

Thou dost place learning last, but thou wilt 
learn ere long that this is growing to be a power 
in the world — a power greater than arms,” said 
the Norman. 

Leofwine’s pale cheeks grew crimson. Was 
it possible that such an age was dawning for the 
world — a time coming when mental power, rath- 
er than brute force, should be the conqueror ! 
Truly, if this were to be so the monasteries must 
be the nurseries of such a movement, for where 
else could men be calm and quiet enough to pur- 
sue the studies and researches that wer-e to 
give them this power. The thought was alto- 
gether a new one to the young monk. He had 
loved learning for its own sake, in spite of the 
contempt and persecution that had followed its 
pursuit ; and that it would ever be changed— 
that stalwart men like his father and Earl Leof- 
ric would ever respect learning otherwise than 
as belonging to the Church — that knowledge 


92 


Leofwine. 


should become power even against vikings' 
prowess, was something passing belief. 

As Leofwine pondered over this the grandeur 
of the Norman's suggestion took full possession 
of his mind, and he almost forgot that it was to 
search for his brother, and visit the holy places 
on behalf of his monastery, that this journey had 
been undertaken, rather than the acquisition of 
learning, which was merely a side question or 
advantage not thought of by any one but himself. 

The mission of the two monks, Osgood and 
Ailred, seemed poor and contemptible when 
compared with the acquirement of learning, if 
it was to effect such a radical change in the 
world ; and Leofwine chafed more and more at 
being detained near his father, so anxious was 
he to reach Normandy, where it seemed, accord- 
ing to the knight’s account, all the learned men 
of the time were to be found. 

At length, however, he was allowed to depart 
in company with another pilgrim who was on 
his way to Rome, and bore letters from his mon- 
astery to the holy father protesting against some 
usage of the Roman Church which had not been 
received by the Saxon, and therefore could not 
be submitted to, even at the command of a Nor- 
man abbot. 

As they journeyed on frorn village to village 


The World's New Power. 93 

they heard again and again of the two monks, 
Osgood and Ailred, and their brave work for 
the poor slaves and married clergy, who were in 
their degree and by their brethren of the mon- 
asteries scarcely less despised than the slaves. 

At length they reached Dover, where they 
found a vessel of the king’s about to depart for 
the new port of Cherbourg, upon which they 
embarked, and after a rough passage of nearly 
a week, the few miles that intervened between 
England and what had always been wonderland 
to Leofwine, from the mystery that enwrapped 
every thing beyond the Channel, the new port 
of the Norman Duke William was reached, and 
after a night’s rest they set out for Rouen, the 
capital city of Normandy. 

Leofwine had a vague hope that some of the 
Flemings who had followed the Duchess Ma- 
tilda to her new home would be able to give 
him some news of Hereward, and finding Here- 
ward, it would be easy to find Alric. The fact 
of Hereward being an outlaw and wolf’s head ” 
was quite overlooked, and that one so important 
in the Danelagh should be of small importance 
in Flanders was almost incomprehensible ; but 
he soon found that none of those about the 
Court of Matilda had heard of either of the 
young Englishmen, and were inclined to laugh 


94 


Leofvvine. 


at him for his pertinacious inquiries. His lim- 
ited knowledge of French, too, was a great hin- 
derance ; for although this had been adopted 
by most of the thanes’ families, especially those 
about the Court, men like Leofric, the great 
Earl of Mercia, and Eric his thane, disdained 
to use any other than the Saxon tongue, and so 
Leofwine only knew what he had learned at the 
monastery and occasionally practiced at Wind- 
shore. But, awkward as he felt in speaking this 
foreign tongue, he contrived to go among the 
citizens and find out other Flemings, spinners 
and weavers, who had been induced to leave 
their native Flanders and settle in Rouen, by 
the known favor the duchess showed to all sorts 
of Flemish industry and handicraft, for they 
were among the best artisans in Europe, and 
she wished her adopted country to learn other 
arts besides that of war. 

But although these more humble folk always 
received the young pilgrim kindly and rever- 
entially, they could give him very little informa- 
tion about what was going on in Flanders. But 
Leofwine still lingered in Rouen, for he heard 
here of a man who was high in the duke’s 
favor, who was trusted and consulted upon 
every affair of State, and thought more of by 
every body about the Court than any noble or 


The WorlrTs New Power. 95 

warrior, merely because he was a great scholar, 
for every body said that Lanfranc, who stood 
so high in the duke’s counsels was at first only 
a poor monk like himself. 

But for some time it seemed that he would be 
disappointed in this hope, for he was not at the 
Court just now, and the duke and duchess 
seemed to have little to do but to amuse them- 
selves with pageants and knightly entertain- 
ments, and watch the progress of the builders 
rearing the new monastery and convent that 
were being built in fulfillment of the vows made 
by the duke in gratitude for the papal sanction 
to his marriage with Matilda. The scholar Lan- 
franc had pleaded the duke’s cause at Rome and 
gained the consent of the pope, for the countess 
was distantly related to him, and therefore the 
marriage was forbidden by the laws of the 
Church — laws that were often found to be very 
accommodating when it was a wealthy or power- 
ful prince who wished to break them. 

Leofwine often saw the stately train of nobles 
and ladies riding through the streets of Rouen 
or in the forests beyond the walls, and one thing 
particularly struck him in these Norman gentle- 
men, their deference and respect for all women, 
not merely the high-born ladies of the Court ; 
but, proud and haughty as they were in their 


96 


Leofwine. 


bearing toward men beneath them in station, 
never did he see them once guilty of rudeness 
to a woman, however poor she might be. 

Chivalry had never been heard of in Saxon 
England in those days, and women were looked 
upon as far beneath men — as little better than 
household slaves. Here, in Normandy, the 
women were treated as the equals and compan- 
ions of husbands and brothers, and William’s 
knights vied with each other in their devoted 
attentions to wife, or sister, or other true lady. 
It was a matter of great surprise to Leofwine to 
notice all this, and he wished his mother could 
be treated with the stately deference accorded 
to these women There was also another sub- 
ject of surprise. Very rarely was a drunken man 
to be seen in the streets of Rouen, whereas in 
the Danelagh it was not thought at all disgrace- 
ful for a man to be seen lying helpless and in- 
sensible on the highway ; and no Englishman 
would have thought he had eaten and drank 
enough to do honor to a feast unless he ate to 
repletion and drank until he rolled under the 
table. Here men ate more sparingly and drank 
more temperately — a thing more difficult to Le- 
ofwine to understand than even their chivalry. 

' He expressed something of his surprise to 
one of the brethren at the monastery where he 


The World's New Pozver. 97 

« 

was staying, at the same time expressing a wish 
that Englishmen might learn such habits of 
kindness and temperance as their chivalrous 
sober neighbor practiced. But the Norman 
monk shook his head. “ Nay, nay ; I fear ye 
English would be slow to learn any lesson that 
touched such national customs as drunkenness, 
and of the Normans ye are specially suspicious ; 
and yet, I trow, if our Duke William became 
king of England he would respect the laws of 
the Saxons.” 

Duke William become king of England ! 
muttered Leofwine as soon as he could recover 
from his surprise sufficiently to speak. 

Is it so wonderful that thou art amazed at 
the thought ? It is talked of here in Rouen as 
probable since the duke’s visit to England, for 
the gentle King Edward is childless, and loves 
our count well, and, some say, hath promised 
the crown to our Duke William.” 

“ What ! a Norman rule our merrie England ! 
Nay, nay, I trow not. Thinkest thou we are a 
nation of slaves, whom our king can hand over 
to whom he will ? ” asked Leofwine. 

‘‘ But Edward is childless, and the Atheling, 
if living still, is almost a German. Who then 
can succeed the holy Edward ? Our duke — ” 
^‘Nay, but an Englishman who rules in the 


Leofwine. 


98 

hearts of Saxons and Danes will sit upon the 
throne of England,” interrupted Leofwine. 

'‘And is there such a one.^” asked the Nor- 
man blandly. 

Leofwine was about to repeat what he had 
heard from Earl Leofric concerning Harold, but 
he suddenly remembered the caution not to talk 
of this, and he had already learned that these 
Norman monks, like Norman courtiers, were 
very smooth in speech but very crafty in deeds, 
and so he held back the name of the man who 
was enthroned already in the hearts of all true 
Englishmen, merely saying, “The saints pre- 
serve us from all rulers but those of our own 
race.” 

“The Saxon race are not so perfect in vir- 
tue, but that thou wouldst fain have them add 
Norman temperance to it,” said the monk with 
something of a sneer, for, like the rest of his 
countrymen, he looked upon the Saxons as lit- 
tle better than savages. 

“Nay, not Norman temperance would I have 
my country learn, for I know not but this may 
be but another Norman wile,” said Leofwine 
somewhat angrily ; “ but I would have English- 
men learn temperance, and practice it as they 
do all things, from their heart, thoroughly and 
earnestly, or — ” 


The World's New Power. 99 

“ Nay, but I thought thou wouldst have them 
learn these things thou hast learned to admire 
in us at all costs !” interrupted his companion. 

“ So I would,’' said Leofwine. At all costs,” 
he repeated, for temperance and gentleness 
are worth any sacrifice.” 

Little did he think what the sacrifice would 
be when he uttered these words ; but the future 
is wisely hidden from all eyes save His who 
knows the end from the beginning, and loves 
the world through all the darkness and disci- 
pline of the ages. 


lOO 


Leofwine. 


CHAPTER VTII. 

THE SEARCH. 

F inding that little news could be gained 
among the Flemings of Rouen, Leofwine 
resolved at last to journey to Flanders, and, if 
possible, ask Count Baldwin himself if he had 
two young Englishmen in his service answer- 
ing to the description of Here ward and Alric. 
This search for his brother seemed now to Le- 
ofwine a more difficult undertaking than it ap- 
peared to him when talking of it at home in his 
mother’s bower ; but he was not deterred by 
the obstacles in the way, and set off on his 
journey from Rouen full of hope that in Flan- 
ders he should find both the wanderers ; and 
asking the road to Lille of the wayfarers whom 
he. met, and resting at night at some monastery 
or convent, he met with fewer dangers than he 
had expected, for his pilgrim dress was a greater 
protection against an attack of robbers than a 
mailed shirt and a train of armed followers would 
have proved. 

So at last the busy town of Lille was reached, 
and he saw the palace where Count Baldwin, 


The Search. 


lOI 


the father of the Countess Matilda, held his 
Court ; but he was absent now, much to Leof- 
wine’s disappointment, and no one could tell 
him of two young Englishmen having been 
seen there. These Flemings were a busy, in- 
dustrious folk ; and as Leofwine walked up and 
down the narrow street, and heard the rattle of 
looms and spindles, he could not help wishing 
that his own nation had some share in this 
peaceful work. The churches and monasteries 
too, as well as the palace, were all of solid ma- 
sonry, instead of being built of rough timber, 
like so many of the churches at home ; and there 
was plenty of scope here for the exercise of the 
skill of the new order of masons, for architect- 
ural beauty was by no means overlooked in 
these stately buildings. 

Failing, however, to hear any thing of his 
brother or Lord Hereward, Leofwine resolved to 
stay but a short time in Lille, and then betook 
himself to a pilgrimage to the sea-port towns, 
thinking they might have settled near the place 
where they had landed. With this hope he 
came to Sithiu, after being detained in a neigh- 
boring abbey for several days by the weather. 
When he reached the town he found plenty of 
evidences of the recent storm in the animated 
looks and loud talking of the country folk, a 


102 


Leofwine. 


party of whom had just brought a company of 
shipwrecked mariners to the market-place to be 
sold as slaved, a practice deemed quite lawful, 
and not at all unusual. Leofwine went to look 
at the unfortunate men, the “ flotsam ” of the 
sea, now made ‘^jetsam” by the people into 
whose hands they had fallen. The men stood 
shivering in the market-place, their clothes still 
wet from the salt spray that had washed over 
their boat, and cast it at length on the low, 
sandy shore of Sithiu, and appeared both hun- 
gry and exhausted. 

Leofwfne saw at a glance that the prisoners 
were all Englishmen, and be resolved to do 
what he could to alleviate their misery by get- 
ting them something to eat. He had a little 
money and some food in the small scrip he 
carried, and this food was instantly turned out 
and divided among them, and then he went to 
buy some more. The men followed him with 
their hungry eyes as he turned away, and then 
one of them exclaimed, “ There is no mercy in 
heaven or earth ! ” 

It was the first word either of them had 
spoken, and^ as the dearly-loved sound of his 
own language fell upon Leofwine’s ears, the 
tears rose to his eyes and he quickened his 
steps, and was soon returning laden with brea 1, 


The Search. 


103 

while a lad at his side carried a pitcher of warm 
soup. 

“ The smell of the soup seems to give a 
man some hope of life again,” said one of the 
half-famished sailors as the lad set down the 
jar in their midst, and Leofwine divided the 
bread. 

There, say not again there is no mercy in 
heaven or earth while the Church by her serv- 
ants sends food to the hungry,” said Leofwine, 
as the men tore up the bread and meat and 
thrust it into their mouths, and drank huge 
draughts of the hot soup. They forgot to 
grumble because it was not ale ; and Leofwine 
watched them as the food disappeared, speak- 
ing a word now and then, but thinking all the 
while what a pity it was some of them had not 
escaped the cruel tyranny of slavery, by fleeing 
to the neighboring church, or the monastery of 
St. Bertin close by. 

These thoughts found expression at last, and 
he said, How canst thou say there is no mercy 
on earth while the Church is all powerful, and 
gives the right of sanctuary to all who fly to 
her for protection.” 

The men looked up from devouring the last 
morsels of food as he said these words, and 
some of them shook the chains and ropes by 


104 


Leofwine. 


which they were bound, like huge mastiffs try- 
ing the strength of their bonds, and then one 
of them said, Sir Clerk, we thank thee for that 
word;” and almost as he spoke there was a 
rattling of chains and a snapping of old ropes, 
and then a scuffle in the crowd, during which 
Leofwine was thrown down and the life almost 
trodden out of him ; but he managed to crawl to 
a sheltered nook in the market-place, while the 
fight continued between the prisoners and their 
captors. 

“ It is not to be borne that the Church should 
rob us of our lawful spoil, which the saints and 
the sea hath sent us!” exclaimed one. ‘‘ Follow 
them, Arnulf, and drag them back even from 
the shrine of St. Bertin I ” Looking cautiously 
round, Leofwine saw that two of the sailors had 
made good their escape, and were flying in the 
direction of the monastery. The rest, encour- 
aged by the success of their companions, were 
fighting more desperately than ever, shouting 
and yelling, as they fought, the well-known 
watchword, A bear I a bear I ” 

Leofwine had heard that many times from 
the lips of his brother and Lord Hereward, and 
there instantly dawned upon him the hope that 
these men might be able to tell him something 
of the young outlaws. They must be saved at 




<i4 ^ 

* 


' -i-. 

A. , 

#* y 














^ 7 / 


yr 4 • 

r'K 






■ • . V- 


y 4 '• 


« .’l- 


'•A^, 


.J ’ 


.••. n ‘•’.V'T. •%.-<’■ *• 

';■.' >■ , C'- - • ' ■ 

saw;; • ■• : .. i-'r > 


ft^V’ » 


»r> 

I » ‘ 

•>• 





V* Vr^. , A- 





•*,' *V . , . 

• »ar /‘v M ’ 


• ■ '■ .. ■ .•*/. • \Vv .'••• 'JM .•■•'■- *KSf-V 

■ ‘ ■ -^' ■ ■^, ■•'• • ■-•■ ' ■' " .y- 

•' ' - *. . *, ‘v 'j , .V ' I' 

., ;A ..* . , . i ' . • ' - * ' ■jri * •■ '•».»• S • ' • • • ,**1. 

• * ' t'*'*'® xt ■ •»' * I. ;/ . ^.‘ 


•''■'S'V'r 


- 1 

• t 

•t t 

I ♦ 


^ i 


V « ‘ 





1 I 

.1 


\ 


. V" 


;♦-• . 
•S' 
U. 


V. , l<' 

. * . 


: > V. ^ •» 


f, . 


,•1/ 






< • 




t 



I » 
1 , • 





i \ 






I 


*■ t 





fjvV- 

.■'/-^.v- ■ lifir 



^ > I 


■i: 


>• . .;.: .* •* 
i* ■ • t • 




J 4 ;. ' 

' ' * * ■*' ^'■V' 

'A' >*'. 4 V’ji-*. 



'*: • 

I ' > • 

^ vS 


rV -. 




• •V. 







TJie Search. 


107 


all risks to himself, and so he crawled from his 
hiding-place, and, in spite of his bruised limbs, 
made his way into the crowd, and tried to make 
his voice heard above the confused din of the 
combatants. 

“ Peace, peace, I say ! ” he shouted in French, 
and some one, standing near and seeing the 
pilgrim dress of the speaker, took up his words, 
and shouted in the ears of his fellow-townsmen. 
Peace, peace ! in the name of holy Church, 
whose messenger ye have brutally handled;” 
for-Leofwine was cut, and bleeding from several 
wounds on his face, and the palmer’s dress he 
wore was torn almost to shreds. 

The sight of a holy pilgrim in this sorry 
plight worked an almost marvelous change in 
this brutal mob, and they forgot their prisoners 
in their dismay when their eyes fell upon Leof- 
wine. It was not the man they feared, but the 
power he represented — the Church that was 
mightier than any king or emperor of earth, 
and equally powerful in the kingdom of heaven 
or hell. These men, hard and callous as they 
were, fairly shivered with fear as they reflected 
that this unknown stranger was one of the spe- 
cial messengers and most favored servants of 
the all-powerful Church, which, through her 
agents here, might take away their lands and 


io8 Leofwine. 

give them to the monastery, while the offended 
saints might keep back all wrecks from their 
shore, and inflict upon them unknown tortures 
in that purgatory they lived in such dread of. 

No one spoke of dragging the prisoners from 
their place of sanctuary now — they would scarce- 
ly have dared, even in the heat of their passion, 
to venture on the sacred spot ; and now that 
reason was once more beginning to reassert her 
sway, they began to repent their rashness in 
treating a holy pilgrim as they had done. Leof- 
wine’s torn dress and bleeding face pleaded 
most eloquently ; and as he went forward, all 
made way for him through the crowd, until he 
once more stood beside the sailors. 

They were still manacled, and all torn and 
wounded in the unequal contest. Two seemed 
to be dying of the wounds they had received, 
and on seeing this, Leofwine knelt down and 
raising the head of one bade him make his last 
confession and receive the absolution of the 
Church without delay, lest he should leave the 
world with all his sins on his head. 

But his companion objected. Nay, nay, we 
be Odin’s men now,” he said. “The White 
Christ whom we were baptized to serve hath 
forsaken us, and left us to be flotsam and 
jetsam.” 


The Search. 109 

‘‘ Nay, if ye be baptized ye are none of Odin’s 
men, and the Church will absolve you from all 
things, even — ” 

Even the robbing of a wealthy abbot ? ” 
asked the other anxiously. 

Leofwine was puzzled to answer this. The 
doing despite to a servant of the Church is a 
great and sore offense,” he said seriously. 

But not the sorest I have committed in my 
life-time,” confessed the penitent. “ I murdered 
a man about a year come Yule-tide, and cast 
his body into the deep. Can the Church grant 
me forgiveness for that } ” 

“ Yes,” answered Leofwine without hesitation. 

Our holy mother Church hath power to forgive 
all sins. Hast thou any others to confess } ” he 
asked. 

The man shook his head. It is growing 
dark,” he whispered ; and Leofwine knew it was 
the darkness of death gathering upon him, and 
he hastened to speak the customary words of 
absolution that was to release him from the 
guilt of sin and give him the right of entrance 
into the kingdom of heaven. 

That he said no word concerning the White 
Christ,” or the love of God in sending his Son to 
redeem the world from sin, was not surprising ; 
for the Church, in the plenitude of its power, 


I lO 


Leofwine. 


had arrogated to itself the prerogatives of 
God, and now, instead of being the guide and 
teacher of men, pointing them beyond itself up 
to the Lamb of God that taketh away the 
sins of the world'’ — the “White Christ” who 
had won the fierce hearts of Danish vikings 
years before — the Church had grown to be a 
vail, hiding God from the hearts of men and 
presenting to them a host of saints, martyrs, 
and relics instead. 

To the surviving companion of the dead sail- 
or whose own wounds would prove fatal in a 
few hours, the fact of his having received the 
absolution of the Church at the last moment 
seemed to afford him some slight satisfaction ; 
and in spite of his having declared himself 
“Odin's man,” he said, “Come, shrive me next, 
holy father, for I have but little time to lose, 
and mine must be a longer shrift than poor 
Gurth’s.” 

It was indeed a long list of crimes to which 
Leofwine had to listen ; but the recital came to 
an end at last, and there was only time to pro- 
nounce the absolution and bless the departing 
soul. A deep groan was uttered by the rest of 
the prisoners as their second companion died ; 
while the crowd, which had ’ greatly lessened 
during the last few minutes, maintained a re- 


The Search. 


Ill 


spectful silence, not daring at present to renew 
the fight. 

When Leofwine had gently closed the eyes of 
the dead, he turned to one of the bystanders 
and asked him to strike off the chains that still 
bound their limbs ; and then, glancing at the 
bruised and bleeding men who were still living, 
he asked, What will ye take as ransom for 
these ? They are unfit for slaves now,” he 
added. 

A low growl broke from the party of men who 
owned them, and a short consultation was held 
as to whether they should not be killed outright 
for daring to resist as they had done. But a 
wholesome fear of the Church, as represented in 
Leofwine, restrained them from this cruel asser- 
tion of their rights to all the sea cast on their 
shore, and after sundry ejaculations and angry 
words, a sum of money was named which 
equaled, if it did not exceed, the market value 
of the men as slaves. 

Leofwine knew this, and he slowly shook his 
head, for he could not hope to raise such a sum 
of money with a month’s begging, and that was 
the only way he could hope to do it at all unless 
he sold his gold tocque and bracelets, which he 
had brought to give to Alric in token that he 
resigned with them all the rights and privileges 


1 12 


Leofwine. 


his birthright gave him as the elder son of a 
thane. 

The men grumbled that Leofwine refused the 
ransom they named, and another conference 
was held ; while the young monk tried to raise 
the spirits of his countrymen, who, now that the 
fighting was over, seemed ready to faint from 
weakness and loss of blood. 

Their owners seeing these signs of illness, 
and anxious to make as good a bargain as they 
could, named a much smaller sum, for they be- 
gan to fear the business might prove a trouble- 
some one if the men became sick on their hands. 
So they readily agreed to Leofwine’s propos- 
al, that they should be taken at once to the hos- 
pice of St. Bertin, and come there for the ran- 
som that day week. 

Leofwine was himself so weak and faint from 
the loss of blood and over excitement that he 
was glad to accept the assistance of two of the 
monks who had come from the monastery on 
he'aring of the disturbance. 

They took him with all speed and care to the 
monastery infirmary, where his wounds were 
dressed, and where he could see and talk with 
the men he had rescued ; for since hearing their 
war-cry he had been most anxious to question 
them concerning his brother. 


The Search. 


They had just come from Ireland, and were in 
the service of King Ronald, of Waterford, and 
at his Court there were now staying two young 
Englishmen whom Leofwine felt sure were 
Lord Hereward and Alric. Each of the men 
could tell him something of the exploits of these 
two, and describe the punctured marks on the 
throat and wrist by which they were distin- 
guished from most of the other house-carls about 
the Court. 

This would, of course, alter all Leofwine’s 
plans for continuing the search of Alric, and 
thinking how unlikely it was he should ever 
see him now, he resolved to sell his tocque and 
bracelets and ransom these men with the money, 
for he had been told that his wounds would 
not allow of his going out again for several 
days. 

The men who had fled for sanctuary to the 
home of St. Bertin would have to strike hands 
with the saint and become monks, or run the 
risk of being seized and sold into slavery. This 
had more terror for them than death itself, and 
so, after confessing their crimes, they obtained 
leave to go on pilgrimage to Rome as a pen- 
ance before entering as regular monks, thus 
putting off the evil day a little longer, and 
Leofwine left Sithiu with them. 


Leofwine. 


1 14 


CHAPTER IX. 

THE YOUNG QUEEN. 

S UMMER sunshine was making pleasant 
pictures through the slender branches and 
delicate leaves of the mountain ash, and the 
air was sweet with the spicy fragrance of bay, 
myrtle, and wild thyme, and the little Welsh vil- 
lage in the confines of Caernarvonshire seemed 
to have donned its holiday attire in honor of 
some festival, and men had left tending their 
goats on the higher slopes of the mountain, and 
the women had left the making of cheese for 
one day at least, for the great king, Gryffyth, 
who had conquered all the tribes of Wales, and 
had regained the throne of Frederick the Great, 
would pass through the valley with his beautiful 
Saxon bride, and his loyal subjects would fain 
see their brave king once during their lives. 

The little wattled church stood open, and near 
the door a monk, cross in hand, was watch- 
ing for the royal party to appear, ready to head 
the procession who were to go forth and meet 
them. 

The villagers kept at a respectful distance 


The Young Queen. 1 1 5 

from the monk, but their tongues ran freely as 
they discussed the merits of their king and his 
English bride. 

“ She is no mate for our great Gryffyth, the 
son of Llewellyn, and yet it is said she thinketh 
scorn of the ways of the Cymry,” said a man 
whose blue eyes and golden hair contrasted 
strangely with his sun-browned, weather-beaten 
face. 

A fierce look of wounded pride came into the 
face of his companion as he answered, “And 
who are Saxons or Danes as compared with 
the noble Cymry, who should of right hold all 
England } Nay, I will not call it by this new 
name, but by our own loved name of Britain — 
who, I say, should hold the marches of Here- 
ford, and the land of Mercia, and Northumbria, 
Wessex, and Sussex, but the Cymry, who have 
been driven to the fastnesses of these valleys 
and mountains by the men of yesterday, like 
this Earl Alfgar, the father of our queen.'’ 

“ But our brave king loves his bride," said a 
woman standing near, “and thou wouldst not 
grudge him the happiness — ” 

“ Happiness ! " interrupted the first speaker ; 
“ doth the proud Aldytha love her husband } " 

None dared answer this question, for no one 
knew ; and at this moment there was a con- 


Leofwine. 


1 16 

fused stir in the distance, which betokened the 
approach of the royal party, and all edged them- 
selves as near to the front as possible, the 
women to catch a glimpse of the fair bride, and 
the men to obtain a good view of their brave 
king’s face. 

Slowly the train came on, headed by a priest 
carrying the holy rood. Then came the twenty- 
four officers of the court in their robes of state, 
guarding the litter of the queen. 

She was young and beautiful, but there was 
no joy or hope in the cold, proud face ; and her 
favorite bower maiden, Githa, who sat beside her, 
seemed to take far more interest in the scene 
than she did. 

Immediately behind the queen came the 
Court physician, and with him walked a grave, 
stately man, whose beard hung down upon his 
breast, and whose duty it was to command 
silence in the king’s presence, if so it were the 
royal will. Each carried a wand of solid sil- 
ver, and wore heavy bracelets of gold. Behind 
came Gryffyth himself, fair haired and blue eyed, 
but of royal height and bearing, looking every 
inch ^king as he walked a little in advance 
of his favorite falconer, who carried a hawk on 
his wrist, and his bard or harper, without whose 
attendance he would not think of taking any 


The Young Queen. 1 1 7 

]ourney. There was little difference in the 
dress of Gryffyth from that of his chief officers, 
save the gold tocque around his neck ; and 
something of a smile dawned on his stern face 
as he saw the country people gathered around, 
and heard their hearty cheers of greeting. 

At a little distance came the sumpter mules, 
bearing the wardrobe of the bride, and the gold 
dishes and cups from which the king always 
ate and drank ; for, although the Welsh used 
little money as a means of exchange, they 
had plenty of gold and silver — far more than 
King Edward, who ruled the larger kingdom of 
England. 

There was a halt near the church, for the ab- 
bot and monks of the neighboring monastery 
came forth to bless the king after his recent vic- 
tories, and to wish long life to the queen. Then, 
in answer to the abbot’s congratulations, the 
bard, as the king’s spokesman, replied, '‘Bards 
unborn shall sing of Gryffyth, the son of Llew- 
ellyn, because thy God who saved our land from 
heathenesse hath given to our king a mighty 
arm whereby he hath broken down the white 
palaces of many kings, and hath joined hands 
with Alfgar the Saxon, whose daughter is now 
our queen, wherefore our king hath brought 
gifts for thy monastery, even silver and gold, 


Leofwine. 


1 1 8 

which thou mayest exchange for willow wands, 
and stout timbers to make secure thy walls, 
which thou sayest are falling to the ground,” 
for the abbot had contrived to let the king know 
that their house stood in great need of repair in 
the course of his congratulatory address. 

These homes of piety and learning among the 
Welsh mountains were even more simple in 
their architecture and surroundings than the 
Saxon monasteries, and a look of contempt 
passed over the queen’s face as she noticed the 
rude, roughly-built church and monastery, and 
the simply attired clergy, who spoke the familiar 
language of the people, which to her unaccus- 
tomed ears sounded so barbarous, but which 
her husband loved above all others as that of 
his native Cymry, and therefore gave little en- 
couragement to his clergy to revive the now 
nearly forgotten Latin tongue, the last legacy 
of the Romans except the mighty ruins of 
towns that bid fair to outlast even the Titanic 
piles once reared on the mountain top to Bel, 
the idol of the sun. 

Aldytha, however, had been to London and 
Westminster, and seen the abbey King Edward 
was then building near his palace — a marvel of 
architectural beauty and strength it seemed al- 
ready, and it was only slowly growing toward 


The Young Queen, 1 1 9 

perfection. She had also seen famous Norman 
knights, so soft of speech and courteous in their 
bearing toward her, and learned Norman pre- 
lates, who spoke Latin like their mother tongue, 
and she despised the rude magnificence and 
uncouth splendor of her husband’s court more 
and more, and felt no sympathy with a clergy 
who were so poor that they could only adorn 
their monasteries with willow wands, and so 
unlearned that they could only talk to their 
flocks in the familiar language of the country. 

The proud lady forgot that purity and charity, 
and a true setting forth of God’s will, were of 
more worth than wealth and learning combined ; 
and the simple country folk, who watched the 
dissatisfied face as she reclined in her litter, felt 
little love for the beautiful lady wlio had come 
to make her home among them, and again they 
asked themselves the question. Did she love 
Gryffyth as the brave king loved her } 

Githa, her bower maiden, began to ask her- 
self the same question, when, the royal progress 
being over, they settled down for a time at 
Rhadlan, where Aldytha grew more restless 
and dissatisfied than ever as she paced through 
the bare, stately rooms of her palace, but rarely 
sat in her bower or took any interest in the 

spinning of her maids or the embroidery which 
8 


120 


Leofwink. 


her own and Githa’s deft fingers were ever en- 
gaged in while they were at Bourne. 

Githa would sit in the bower with the other 
maidens of the royal household, and Aldytha 
would come in and fling herself upon the couch, 
and exclaim : — 

‘‘ No news from England, Githa — nothing to 
cheer us in our loneliness!” 

'‘Art thoit lonely.'^” asked Githa one day, 
who had been shedding a few tears at the 
thought of her mother and father, and the dear 
ones at home. 

"Lonely!” repeated Aldytha; "have I not 
been utterly alone, save thee, since Alfgar, my 
father, left us } ” 

" Nay, but thou hast the king, thy husband,” 
said Githa in rather a loud whisper. 

But Aldytha placed her hand upon the girl’s 
lips, for although the other bower maidens, now 
busy with their spinning-wheels, did not under- 
stand the Saxon tongue, she feared their over- 
hearing such words as she had just uttered, al- 
though to Githa she opened her mind freely 
enough. She slowly shook her head as . she 
looked at her bower maiden now, and said, " My 
father needed this alliance with Gryfifyth, and 
therefore I — Githa,” she suddenly added, 
" will the time ever come when the women folk 


The Young Queen. 12 r 

of a man’s household are of more worth than 
his cattle or his slaves ? ” 

Githa looked up in a sort of half terror at the 
question. What should they be } ” she asked. 

“ Something more than stepping-stones for 
a man’s ambition — than pledges of a contract 
made for his convenience. They should be the 
companions and counselors of their lords, even 
as Matilda, wife to Count William of Normandy, 
is said to be.” 

“ But thy lord, King Gryffyth, would fain 
have thee go with him sometimes when he 
exerciseth hawk and falcon,” said Githa, scarce- 
ly comprehending her mistress’s meaning. 

Aldytha looked contemptuous. ‘‘What care 
I for falcon or hawk ! I am here as a billed 
and hooded falcon myself, and what care I for 
sport that doth but remind me of my bonds. 
Githa, I say, a day must come when English- 
women shall be other than toys and tools, to be 
dealt with as it pleaseth their lords.” 

“ When will that day come, thinkest thou } ” 
asked Githa. 

The lady shook her head ; “ I know not, I 
cannot tell, or what shall bring it to pass ; but 
— but think of it, Githa, my grandam, Godiva, 
riding naked through the streets of Coventry 
as the price her husband imposed for the tak- 


122 


Leofwine. 


ing away the tax that every wayfarer had to 
pay.” 

But it was a noble deed of piety and char- 
ity exclaimed Githa in a tone of admiration. 

And what of the earl, her husband, who im- 
posed such hard conditions ? ” demanded Al- 
dytha. 

Githa could only shake her head, for she felt 
too much awe for the great chieftain whom her 
father served — '‘holy Leofric,” as men called 
him now — to dare to question any thing he 
ever did. 

The cause of Aldytha’s dissatisfaction peeped 
out at last. "If my father, had given me to 
some Saxon thane or earl who lived near the 
Court of King Edward I should have been more 
content,” she said; "but to send me to this 
savage land is as bad as selling me into 
slavery.” 

" If we had lived near London we could have 
gone to Bourne sometimes,” remarked Githa. 

"Yes, and we should have heard gleemen 
more merry than Mordred, the minstrel, here, 
and—” 

" But thou art the lady of Gryffyth, the great 
king here, and there is no earl great enough to 
mate with thee save the Godwin’s sons, I have 
heard my father say.” 


123 


The Young Queen, 

A deep blush suffused the lady’s beautiful 
face for a moment as she said, Then why did 
not my father make an alliance ? But whereof 
am I talking? Harold, Godwin’s son, would 
never have stooped to mate with me I ” she 
suddenly added, and, turning her face to the 
wall, she sighed deeply. 

It was indeed a lonely life the young queen 
lived, for Gryffyth had enough to do to keep in 
check the turbulent princes he had conquered, 
to say nothing of frequent forays into his Nor- 
man neighbor’s marches of Hereford, and the 
secret cabal he was forming with Alfgar to re- 
gain some English territory once appertaining 
to the Welsh crown. With all these public 
cares and anxieties the king had little time to 
spare for his young wife, and she, knowing 
nothing of the language of the people among 
whom she lived, had only Githa for a com- 
panion. 

It was always a bright day to Aldytha 
when the nuncio, or messenger, brought a let- 
ter from Alfgar, the earl, to Gryffyth, the king ; 
for despite her state, and the etiquette that 
her husband observed so rigidly, the young- 
queen generally contrived to see that mes- 
senger before he had feasted on the national 
repast of stewed kid, and drank himself to in- 


124 


Leofwine. 


toxication on the mead, that was scarcely less 
potent in its effects than the strong ale of the 
Bruneswald. From the trusty messenger, who 
was ever an old servant of the house, Aldytha 
heard all the news from the two households at 
Bourne, and sometimes a letter came to herself 
from her father or her grandam, but these con- 
tained little beyond a few formal words of greet- 
ing, for letter-writing was not a familiar art in 
those days, and so Aldytha questioned the mes- 
senger, and thus learned much more than she 
could by letter. But one day the nuncio 
brought three letters, tied and sealed with the 
earbs great seal, and before they were opened 
Aldytha knew from the messenger that her 
grandfather was dead, and her father had suc- 
ceeded to his earldom of Mercia. Her letter 
was from her younger brother, Edwin, and 
merely confirmed the words of the nuncio 
concerning the death of Leofric. The others 
were for her husband and Githa. In the for- 
mer she took little interest, but she ran with all 
the eagerness of a child to hear the contents 
of her bower maiden’s packet, for it seemed a 
lengthy epistle, judging from its weight and 
size. 

It proved to be two letters when the string 
was untied and the seals broken : one from her 


125 


The Young Queen. 

mother, written by a monk of Crowland, and 
one from Leofwine, which had been sent to 
Bourne from beyond the sea by the hand of a 
palmer who had met Leofwine in Normandy. 

Githa herself was, of course, unable to read 
her letters, but Aldytha read them to her, and 
she was scarcely less interested than her bower 
maiden in hearing of the young monk who had 
gone to search for his brother, and visit the 
holy relics at Rome. 

It seemed, however, from the account in his 
letter, that the search for Alric and her young 
uncle Hereward had failed, and he said noth- 
ing now about the holy relics, but was full of 
enthusiasm about the new learning and Lan- 
franc, the Lombard, in whose school of Bee he 
was now studying, where scholars from all lands 
were gathered to listen to the words of wisdom 
that fell from the lips of Lanfranc, the first 
scholar and the greatest man in the world. 
This was Leofwine’s account of his teacher, and 
here, in far-off Wales, his sister sat and won- 
dered what he could mean by calling one who 
was a scholar a great man, for whoever heard 
of greatness except as connected with war ; and 
Githa hoped her brother had not been be- 
witched, as a punishment for his love of worldly 
learning, for some whisper of the suspicion ex- 


126 


Leofwine. 


cited against him in the monastery had reached 
his home after his departure, and though her 
father had laughed at the charge, Githa and her 
mother and sister had crossed themselves more 
frequently as a charm against witch spells since, 
and had prayed the virgin mother to keep Leof- 
wine in future from the wiles of these agents of 
Satan. 


Ambitious Dreams. 


127 


CHAPTER X. 

AMBITIOUS DREAMS. 

T he years glided on peacefully at the house 
of Bourne, where the Lady Godiva passed 
her widowhood, not in stately show, as the wife 
of a great earl, but in making garments for the 
poor, and faithfully administering the affairs of 
her manor. Eric, the thane, was her faithful 
counselor, for he had no wish to join himself to 
Earl Alfgar, who had been outlawed by the 
witan shortly before his father’s death, and 
still continued to aid the plots of the king of 
Wales for the subjugation of the whole realm of 
England. 

Godiva and Eric often spoke of the two fair 
girls who had left their Danelagh home to 
dwell in the Welsh court, and the aged widow 
often shed tears over her son’s restless ambi- 
tion, which had led him to give up his beauti- 
ful daughter to be the wife of this half-savage 
Gryffyth. 

Holy Church assoil him for all the evil 
deeds he hath done through this Gryffyth, and 
none hath been worse than this marriage of 


128 


Leofwine. 


Aldytha's, and now that she is lady of this sav- 
age heathennesse, Wales, he is still unsatisfied.” 

Thinkest thou that in thus helping Gryffyth 
in his wild claim upon the English crown he 
hopes to see the Lady Aldytha lady of England 
as well as Wales ? ” asked Eric. 

“ Aldytha lady of England ! ” uttered Godiva 
in a tone of surprise. Nay, nay, my son can 
never be so false to the saint king now reigning 
at Westminster as to harbor such a thought,'’ 
she added the next minute. 

The thane turned aside his head and muttered 
something in which the words “ dolt ” and 
‘"driveler” could be plainly distinguished. He 
had very little respect for the monk king, whom 
his old chief had helped to mount the throne ; 
but he sought to hide these feelings from the 
lady, as he knew they would distress her, by say- 
ing “ a report hath gone abroad in the Brunes- 
wald that the Lady Aldytha of Wales will be 
Lady Aldytha of England — that such hath been 
prophesied by — ” But there Eric thought it 
best to stop, for Godiva had turned pale, and 
crossed herself repeatedly at the mention of 
the word “ prophesied.” 

“ The saints preserve my child from all witch- 
craft ! Who could have spread such a report 
through our Danelagh ? ” asked the lady. 


A mbitioiis Dreams. 


129 


Eric knew well enough, for Alfgar had come 
straight to him from the “ wise woman’s ” hut ; 
but the fact of such a woman living in the 
woods had to be more carefully guarded than 
ever, for Godiva was so completely under the 
control of her spiritual directors that she would 
show no mercy should it ever come to her knowl- 
edge that a “ witch wife ” lived within sound of 
Crowland bells. 

Alfgar, however, was troubled with very few 
scruples of conscience. He consulted the “wise 
woman,” as his father had done before him, espe- 
cially as to the future of Aldytha ; for although 
she had been virtually sold to Gryffyth, her fa- 
ther loved her and was ambitious for her, hoping 
that the splendid destiny he thought he could 
see before her would compensate for all she 
might suffer now. Great, therefore, was his joy 
when the “ wise woman,” in dim, mysterious 
words, told him that in the halls of Westminster 
Aldytha should one day sit, the lady of England ; 
for the title of queen or companion was not 
yet given to the wife of the reigning sovereign. 
In his pride and exultation he went to Eric 
with the news, and the father of Githa may be 
forgiven if, seeing in this future elevation of the 
lady of Wales exaltation for his own family, he 
did not check the daring plots by which alone 


130 


Leofwine. 


he thought this could be accomplished. So the 
powerful earl of Mercia helped his royal son-in- 
law more and more, dimly descrying the crown 
of England for his daughter in the distance ; 
while he himself, grown more powerful than was 
his father, should take the place of the proud 
Godwin’s sons in the witan as chief among the 
counselors of Gryffyth in the halls of West- 
minster. 

Elswitha was told of the splendid future that 
awaited Githa as the bower maiden and trusted 
friend of the lady of England, for the mother’s 
heart had grown hungry for the children who 
had left her side, especially for Githa, the gentle, 
timid girl who resembled Leofwine more than 
any one else, and she had begged for her return 
from Wales, pleading that Edburgha needed the 
companionship of her sister now. Once more 
the heart-hunger of Elswitha had to be stilled, 
for she would not interpose her longing to the 
hinderance of her child’s advancement ; and so 
the moment of restoration to each other both 
mother and daughter had desired and begun to 
look forward to was indefinitely postponed. 

The craving desire for knowledge which Le- 
ofwine had so long endured was at length being 
satisfied in the renowned school of Bee, and 
am.ong all the students who now crowded to 


9 


Arnbitioit>i Dreams. 13 1 

the feet of the great scholar Lanfranc, the pale 
Saxon monk soon became noticed as the most 
assiduous and attentive, and that he should at- 
tract the attention of his master was not at all 
surprising. 

So the years passed by, bringing but few 
changes in the lives of those who have lived in 
our story, and yet they were fraught with unob- 
served incidents that were silently, slowly, and 
surely bringing about changes such as the world 
or the Church had rarely seen equaled through 
all the past ages. 

It is spring when we take up the thread of 
our story — the spring of 1059 — t)ut it is to the 
high-road of the world's great capital, Rome, 
that we must invite our readers. The wear and 
tear of ages have left their marks on the solid 
masonry of this remnant of Rome’s work, but it 
is still the great thoroughfare of Italy ; and the 
peasant’s clumsy cart, and the knight’s stately 
train of horses and sumpter mules, as well as the 
priest’s and monk’s more humble palfrey, alike 
journey to the world’s capital by this same old 
road. Across the plains of Lombardy there 
were now walking two ecclesiastics, one in the 
dress of a pilgrim, ,the other as a monk. They 
were both about the same height and size, and 
the features of both were delicate and refined ; 


132 


Leofwine. 


but the elder was dark and sallow, and he walked 
with calm self-confidence, as though the world 
was beneath his notice ; and yet nothing escaped 
the eagle glance of his piercing dark eyes. His 
companion, many years younger, was fair, with a 
fringe of pale golden hair round his tonsured 
head ; and as both wore their cowls pushed back, 
it was easy to notice the eager deference with 
which he listened to every word that fell from 
his friend’s lips. 

'' This is my native land, Leofwine. The city 
of Pavia, some few miles beyond this, was where 
I first saw the light, and these pleasant fields and 
olive gardens is where I have often wandered 
and thought of the world of strife and war and 
force, in which there seemed no room for me.” 

Even as I wandered in our woods and fens, 
and looked despairingly at the abbey of Crow- 
land, because, although there seemed no room 
for me in the w.orld, the Church was closed 
against me by my father’s will.” 

''The Church is the only refuge for learning 
in these evil days, and to increase her power 
against the princes and people of the world, 
who would fain restrict it, is the duty of all her 
sons.” 

Leofwine bowed his head, and recalled the 
scenes he had witnessed in the market-place of 


Ambitions Dreams, 


133 


Sithiu, when, but for the power of the Church, 
his brave but unfortunate countrymen would all 
have been killed ; and he said, Surely no man 
would begrudge the Church this power.” 

It is for us to see that they rob her not of 
the high prestige she hath already gained — but 
this is not all. If holy mother Church is to be 
as powerful as the princes of this world, the 
holy father, as the visible head, must be ac- 
knowledged as supreme by all Churches.” 

“ All the Churches do thus acknowledge the 
power of the pope,” observed Leofwine. 

Lanfranc bowed. “They do, as thou say- 
est, acknowledge it ; but some, like thy Saxon 
Church, obey only such laws as please them or 
suit the laws of the country in which they dwell, 
forgetting that the Church is above all laws of 
man’s devising.” 

Leofwine was somewhat distressed at thus 
hearing his beloved Church censured, and he 
ventured to reply, “ If thou couldst see our 
abbey of St. Guthlac, at Crowland, methinks 
thou wouldst not find such fault with our Saxon 
Church. We hear naught there of such scan- 
dals as are often spoken of as practiced in 
France, and which our eyes have seen during 
this our journey.” 

Lanfranc sighed. “ Great and sore are the 


134 


Leofwine. 


evils thou speakest of, and the same v^ill continue 
and increase while the princes of this world 
have the power to sell or to give, to whom they 
will, the bishoprics and abbacies in their do- 
main. It is an evil the Church hath suffered 
long, but a day of purifying is at hand,” added 
the scholar. 

Leofwine knew not what to say or what to 
think as he listened to these plans for subvert- 
ing the liberties of his beloved Saxon Church. 
Outwardly, and in general rules, conforming to 
the Church of Rome as it was in the days 
of Augustin, her first archbishop, the Saxon 
Church had not kept pace with the Romish 
Church in all her innovations, and refused to 
add to her ritual many things that had been 
adopted at Rome, firmly maintaining its indi- 
vidual and national character against the united 
force and fraud of Rome in her endeavors to 
change this. 

Leofwine knew that all this had its root in 
the sturdy independence of the English charac- 
ter, and he wondered how the council they were 
about to attend would decide to act with this in 
view. He did not know the character of the 
cardinal, who was the originator of this plan for 
increasing the power of the Church. He had 
heard Lanfranc speak of the abbot of Clugny, 


A mbitious Dreams. 


I3S 

now Cardinal Hildebrand, as a learned and de- 
vout man — heard him spoken of in connection 
with the words he had first heard at Wind- 
shore from the lips of the Norman knight, that 
knowledge is power ; but he knew not yet how 
mighty and far-reaching that power was — how 
deep and far-seeing were the men shortly to 
meet and discuss the affairs of the Church in 
the great council that had been summoned to 
meet in Rome. 

There was a long silence, during which Leof- 
wine was thinking over the words of Lanfranc, 
while the elder monk watched the face of the 
ingenuous young pilgrim to know what effect 
his words had upon him before venturing to 
say any more, and his next words seemed to 
have little connection with the matter under 
discussion. 

‘^News from England says that Harold, God- 
win’s son, is a great favorite with the saint 
king,” he remarked. 

But he is not a Churchman. Edward could 
not give him a rich bishopric, as he has to sev- 
eral Normans,” said Leofwine quickly. 

Lanfranc smiled at his impulsiveness. “ The 
Normans are more pious than the English, to 
say nothing of their learning. As for the God- 
win’s sons, little love have they for the Church, 
n 


Leofwine. 


136 

although I hear Harold hath endowed the poor 
abbey of Waltham with broad lands, but ap- 
portioned two unlearned monks, Ailred and Os- 
good, to rule over it, to the great displeasure 
of many learned prelates, both English and 
Norman.” 

Leofwine looked at Lanfranc with unfeigned 
surprise. What did this man not know } Not 
an event the most trivial passed in England 
without coming to his ears, and he spoke of 
men, and their antecedents and surroundings, 
as though he had been intimate with them all 
his life. 

The elder monk smiled again. He liked to 
watch and study the young Englishman in his 
various moods, and Leofwine had, quite inno- 
cently, helped him to understand more accu- 
rately the character of this nation of savages, 
as he chose to consider the English in contrast 
with the Normans. 

But their conversation and meditation were 
alike interrupted, as they came within sight of 
the towers of Milan, by a woman suddenly seiz- 
ing the hem of Leofwine’s garment, and crying, 
Mercy ! mercy ! have mercy upon me, and let 
my husband return to me once more ! See his 
children crying for bread ! Surely the saints 
cannot be pleased to see a father leave his 


Ambitions Dreams. 137 

children, when it almost breaks his heart to 
do so.” 

Leofwine looked from the woman to Lan- 
franc and whispered, “ She is mad.” But the 
woman heard the whisper, and a faint color 
stole into her pale, haggard face as she slowly 
rose to her feet and dropped the monk’s gown. 
‘'No, I am not mad,” she said, trying to speak 
calmly, “but I speak the words of sober truth. 
My husband was dragged away from me three 
weeks ago by the furious monks because he 
refused to leave me, and now they say he has 
renounced me since the cardinal legate, Dami- 
ani, came from Rome,” and the poor woman 
wrung her hands and looked despairingly at the 
group of little upturned faces appealing to her 
for food. 

“Who is your husband.^” asked Leofwine. 
“ We are going to Milan even now, and will in- 
quire concerning him.” 

“ He is the priest Arietta, and — ” 

“ Nay, then, woman, if he is a priest thou 
shouldst rejoice that he hath saved his soul by 
flying from thee,” interrupted Lanfranc, who 
had not before spoken. 

The woman drew herself up to her full height 
— a tall, stately matron, and evidently a woman 
of refinement, and her dark eyes flashed in an- 


138 


Leofwine. 


gry scorn as she said, '' We are lawfully married, 
and neither monk nor pope hath a right to in- 
terfere with a priest of the Church of Milan. 
We are not of the Roman Church ; we venerate 
not your St. Peter more than our St. Ambrose, 
who gave our Church its liturgy. We conform 
not to your Church in its ritual ; we will be 
independent of Rome, too, in our discipline, 
unless the Milanese have forgotten the spirit of 
their forefathers.” 

Lanfranc looked stern and angry. '' The 
Church must be obeyed,” he said, “ even if it 
cost ye women a few tears. Lawfully married 
ye could not be, for it is against the canon of 
holy mother Church for any priest to marry.” 

‘‘What! w^ould ye brand these innocent chil- 
dren with shame by your hard and unnatural 
laws.^” demanded the woman. “But where- 
fore do I speak Ye are not men, but stones, 
hating the very mothers who nursed ye and the 
sisters who soothed your early sorrows. Better 
to tell my woe to the winds and ask mercy of 
them than ask it of monks,” and she turned 
away. 

Leofwine was deeply moved, and without 
waiting to consider that Lanfranc had shown 
no sympathy with this distressing scene, or 
that he had set up his master as a model to be 


Ambitious Dreams, 


139 


copied in all things, he stepped after her as she 
turned aside, and, laying his hand upon her 
shoulder, he said, '' Nay, nay, say not that monks 
are so unnatural. I have a mother and sisters 
at home, and — and — but there he paused. 

The woman looked full at the face so sud- 
denly crimsoned with shame. The mother 
of mercy help thee as well as me ! Thou art a 
monk and lovest thy mother still, and the 
Church bids thee cast out all natural affection, 
and bind thyself to her service, though it crush 
heart and soul as well as body. Cruel, cruel 
Church ! I will teach my children to hate it ! ” 
added the mother vehemently. 

Leofwine turned back humbled, conscience- 
stricken, for in that moment the old love for the 
dear ones at home had rushed back to his heart 
with tenfold strength, and this he was about to 
confess — nay, even to boast of — forgetting it 
was a temptation that must be beaten down at 
all costs, and that even the rising thought of 
earthly affection could only be expiated by long 
penance. 


140 


Leofwine. 


CHAPTER XI. 


AT MILAN. 



ANFRANC had observed the deep emo- 


-L' tion of his young disciple, but was too 
wise to mention it, or make any comment upon 
what they had just witnessed. He could mold 
the young monk to his will better by slow and 
gradual process than by force of argument, he 
thought, and so they walked on in silence until 
the gates of Milan were reached. A crowd of 
peasants, who lived beyond the walls, were 
pouring in at the gate as they reached it, and 
while they entered their ears were greeted with 
a deafening blast from a trumpet, and then the 
bells of the principal church began ringing, and 
the crowd hastened their steps in the direction 
whence the sound proceeded, for all knew that 
the blowing of the brazen trumpet was to call 
peer and peasant alike to the place of concourse, 
and every narrow street added its quota to the 
general throng ; and scarce knowing whither 
they were going, or what they were to see, Lan- 
franc and Leofwine were borne on almost irre- 
sistibly by the crowd. 


At Mitan, 


141 

To Lanfranc the appearance of the old city, 
with its grand palaces and splendid churches, 
was familiar enough ; but to Leofwine it was all 
new. He had, however, but little opportunity 
for observation, for they were suddenly stopped 
by a large car blocking the roadway near the 
great square. A tall, mast-like pole, with a 
cross beam, was fixed in the car, and to this 
was stretched a banner of silk bearing the mu- 
nicipal arms and a picture of the crucifixion. 

There was a confused murmur of voices and 
the din of trampling feet, but the crowd were 
very orderly and serious ; and after a few min- 
utes’ watching, Leofwine could see, over the 
swaying heads of the multitude, something like 
an ecclesiastical procession. That it was some- 
thing of more than ordinary importance could 
be plainly seen, for a cardinal’s red hat showed 
conspicuously enough, and was evidently the 
center of observation. Something, however, in 
the arrangement of the procession evidently 
puzzled and displeased the crowd, for Leofwine 
heard a man at his side ask his neighbor if he 
could see the archbishop. 

''Yes, he is with Damiani, the cardinal le- 
gate,” answered the man. 

The other stretched out his neck again. " I 
cannot see him,” he said. 


142 


Leofwine. 


Of course not, he is on the other side,'' 
replied his friend. 

On the other side — on the left hand of his 
eminence!*' exclaimed the man. “The Arch- 
bishop of Milan, our noble, gentle Guido, made 
to give place to the primate of Lucca I If the 
Milanese brook such an insult, then do they de- 
serve that the Church of St. Ambrose should 
lose its independence.” There was a murmur 
of dissatisfaction throughout the crowd, but no 
one attempted to interrupt any of the arrange- 
ments, and the procession moved slowly on, 
Lanfranc and Leofwine keeping as closely to- 
gether as possible, determined to gain entrance 
to the church if they could. 

It was some time, however, before they could 
struggle through the crowd even to the entrance, 
and the church was so densely packed that they 
could only hope to hear a few words spoken by 
the cardinal ; but his face was plainly visible — 
hard, cold, stony, haggard with the rigor of fast- 
ing and the fierce battle that had alone enabled 
him to crush down the softer feelings of his 
nature. Peter Damiani stood there, looking 
down on the sea of upturned faces, and almost 
glaring upon them in the fierceness with which 
he denounced this “ heresy,” the marriage of the 
clergy. How many women there were in that 


At Milan. 


U3 


crowd in the same position as the one they had 
met that morning, none could tell ; but more 
than one was carried out screaming and fainting, 
as the awful words of doom were pronounced 
against those priests who did not instantly cut 
themselves off from all communication with 
their wives. What was to become of them and 
the innocent children thus suddenly orphaned, 
the monk did not say. He hated women as a 
snare of the tempter, and probably thought that 
all they might suffer would be less- than they 
deserved. 

As the crowd began to separate Leofwine 
found himself alone in the midst of the surging 
mob, by no means too quiet now, for many were 
angry that they had not been able to get into 
the church, and others felt aggrieved that their 
city had been slighted in the person of their 
archbishop, while many more took offense at 
this act of aggression on the part of the pope 
— the forbidding their priests to marry. 

It only wanted a little provocation to fan this 
into a flame, and before the cardinal legate could 
have left the church this was at hand. Rush- 
ing from one of the houses and pushing her 
way into the crowd, there came a woman hold- 
ing out her baby which was bleeding from a 
deep cut in its throat. She paused almost at 


144 


Leofwike. 


Leofwine's elbow, and screamed out, See, see, 
ye people of Milan, the work of the fierce 
monk-cardinal ! He hath taken away my hus- 
band, and how could his child live ? Vengeance, 
vengeance, for my murdered child ! '' And the 
poor half-maddened mother caught her tightly- 
clad baby to her heart, and would have fallen 
to the ground had not Leofwine caught her in 
his arms. At the same moment the crowd 
parted in front, and two priests came hurrying 
forward, the younger of whom tenderly took 
the prostrate woman from Leofwine’s arms, and 
carried her into the house, followed by his friend. 
Leofwine still held the baby. “ I am a leech,’* 
he said, when some one attempted to take it 
from him ; and seeing the little creature still 
lived, he carried it in after its distracted father 
and mother, the crowd now pausing in its on- 
ward progress to watch what the end of this 
would be. 

The young Saxon monk proved to be a very 
angel of mercy in the wretched household, for 
the young priest, who had torn off his canon- 
icals, could do little beyond protesting to his 
wife and friend that he would never forsake her 
again. 

I will dare the wrath of the Church, and all 
the punishment she may heap upon me at the 


At Milan, 


145 


day of judgment, rather than leave thee again, 
my dear Caterina,” said the young priest, fond- 
ly. “ O, the unhappy days I have spent since I 
went away from thee and baby ! 

O, my babe, my babe, I have killed her, 
Bernardin,’' whispered his wife as she opened 
her eyes. 

“ Nay, the baby is not dead,” said Leofwine, 
who had dressed the wound in its throat, and 
had now come to see if the mother needed a 
physician’s skill. 

The two priests looked at him suspiciously. 
For a monk to show kindness to any one be- 
longing to a married priest was something so 
extraordinary that they might be pardoned for 
their suspicion, and Leofwine, who knew this, 
did not feel offended. 

Can I do aught for the lady ; I am a leech 
as well as a monk,” he said. 

I thank thee,” said the younger man, for the 
kindness thou hast shown to my wife and child. 
Thou art a stranger in Milan, or thou wouldst 
know that all our misery hath been caused by 
the monks, who ever hate the secular clergy.” 

“ Misery, indeed ! ” uttered the elder priest ; 
“ and when the end will come I know not. In 
a moment of weakness I renounced my wife, as 
the cardinal hath to-day commanded all priests 


146 


Leofwine. 


to do, and I set myself to the performance of 
all my religious duties with a determination that 
nothing should lessen my devotion ; and now — 
now I have fled from the altar of God and his 
saints, for it was but a mockery of service I was 
offering, my heart ever wandering after my chil- 
dren, and reproaching me for deserting them. 
I have left the best and noblest wife a man 
ever had to help him, and six helpless children, 
and some of them may have been murdered by 
their mother in her madness for aught I can 
tell.” 

'‘Nay, but I would return to them,” said Le- 
ofwine impulsively. 

“ There spoke the man, not the monk,” said 
the priest ; “ but I will follow thy advice. I 
thought it might be that I should see my Bianca 
in the crowd near the church to-day. I hoped 
she would come to the city in search of me.” 

“ Then thy home is not in the city ? ” said 
Leofwine, suddenly remembering the poor wom- 
an sitting by the roadside. 

“Nay, my house is an hour’s journey beyond 
the city walls.” 

“And thy wife — is she tall and stately, with 
large flashing eyes ? ” 

“ Thou hast seen her, monk ; thou hast seen 
my Bianca!” suddenly exclaimed the priest. 


At Milan. 


147 


and in his excitement he seized Leofwine, an- 
grily demanding what he had done with his wife 
and children. 

I saw such a one, as I have said, by the 
roadside this morning with six little ones at her 
knees, and she told us her husband was a priest 
and had deserted her.” 

‘‘ My poor wife ! my poor Bianca ! whom I 
vowed at God’s altar to protect. She would not 
have forsaken me at the bidding of the holy 
father himself, and, the saints helping me, I will 
return to her.” 

But the Church, the Church ! ” suddenly 
exclaimed Caterina ; “ if ye both return to us, 
your wives, what will ye do ” 

I know what I will do,” said her husband ; 
and leaving his wife in the care of the woman 
who had taken the baby from Leofwine’s arms, 
he went out into the street, closely followed by 
the other two. 

Beckoning to the crowd that still hovered 
round the door to follow him, he mounted the 
steps of a neighboring church that he might be 
seen and heard more distinctly, and began to ad- 
dress them: '^Ye citizens of Milan and free- 
men of Lombardy, we have this day been in- 
sulted by the lord pope in the person of his 
legate, who gave not the place of honor on his 


148 


Leofwine. 


right hand to our gentle prelate, Guido, but be- 
stowed it on him of Lucca, to our disparage- 
ment. He hath likewise dared to infringe the 
liberties and privileges of the Ambrosian Church, 
for we are not of the Rom.an, although we ac- 
knowledge the supremacy of the Roman pontiff 
as the head of the whole Church Catholic. 
This yielding to him the first place among all 
bishops hath led to many evils before these 
days, and now it increaseth so that he would 
fain compel all men to yield a slavish obe- 
dience to his will and acceptance of the laws 
of the Roman Church, to the utter subver- 
sion of all our liberties as an independent 
Church.” 

Loud murmurs and cries of Hist ! hist ! ” ran 
through the crowd as he said this, and having 
gained the ear of his audience, he went on to 
describe the infamous lives led by many of the 
monks of Rome, and then contrasted it with 
the domestic purity and happiness of the mar- 
ried clergy of the Ambrosian Church, and the 
misery that had already been caused through 
the fanatical zeal of the monks in the Church, 
and the still greater anguish that must fall upon 
many of the noblest and best families in Milan 
if the command of the cardinal should be car- 
ried out, and husbands torn from their homes 


At Milan. 


149 

and families, besides the yielding their indepen- 
dence as a Church and city. 

The effect of this speech was to excite the 
crowd to such a pitch of madness against the 
pope and his legate that the whole city was 
soon ripe for revolt, and Leofwine and the elder 
priest seeing the danger they might each be in 
from the opposite party, made good their escape 
while they had the opportunity. The priest, 
after directing Leofwine to the Benedictine 
monastery, hastened to leave the city in search 
for his wife ; while the young monk went to 
look for his teacher, Lanfranc, whom he had 
not seen since they were separated at the church 
door. 

It had been previously arranged that if either 
should lose the other in the press of the mob 
they were to meet at the hospice of the Bene- 
dictines, and so Leofwine had little fear but that 
Lanfranc would be awaiting him, and would 
doubtless question him as to his long absence. 
To his surprise, however, he heard that his 
master had gone to the archbishop’s palace to 
see the Cardinal Damiani. 

The wise and holy Lanfranc would fain 
confer with the archbishop on this sore evil 
that afflicts our Church, and which the Car- 
dinal Damiani hath this day rebuked,” said one 


Leofwine. 


150 

of the brethren, as he led Leofwine to the re- 
fectory, where a sumptuous meal had just been 
spread for the whole house. 

The monks were already seated when they 
entered, and Leofwine sat down too, but he did 
not attempt to touch the rich meat with which 
his plate had been loaded. It was a fast of the 
Church, too, and by ecclesiastical rules noth- 
ing should have been eaten but bread and eggs 
or fish ; but here every thing that could tempt 
the eye or please the palate was set forth, 
and were fast disappearing, too, down the 
greedy throats of the brethren, and Leofwine’s 
surprise was so evident that the brother who 
brought him in could not but notice it, and 
also that he had not touched a morsel on his 
plate. 

My brother, doth not this stuffed goose 
please thee ? ” he asked, glancing at the con- 
tents of Leofwine’s plate. 

“ I have not tasted it,” answered Leofwine. 
‘‘ This day is a fast, according to our calendar 
of Bee.” " 

The full, round face of the monk grew slight- 
ly red as he murmured something about doing 
honor to the cardinal, and caring somewhat for 
their poor stomachs, as he turned to his own 
plate once more. Before he had finished h : 


At Milan. 151 

asked Leofwine if there was any thing else he 
would like. 

'‘Yes; I am hungry, for I have journeyed 
far to-day ; but I care not for this rich food,” 
answered Leofwine. " If, however, thy house 
will afford some bread and eggs and a horn of 
water to a poor brother I shall be glad to eat 
it.” 

The monk turned up his nose in disgust at 
what he thought Leofwine’s want of taste ; but 
he ordered the servitor to place a dish of eggs 
upon the table, and then pressed their guest to 
take some wine. But this Leofwine likewise 
refused. " At the minster of Crowland, of 
which I am an unworthy brother, none but the 
older brethren are even allowed to drink ale as 
an ordinary drink. Water alone is served at 
our refectory table.” 

“ Then the saints preserve me from a visit to 
thy barbarous Crowland ! ” said the monk, " for 
ye can live but little better than crows.” 

" We deem it not wise to pamper the body,” 
said Leofwine gravely. 

" In that we are agreed, my brother, and it 
hath been a sore grief to me and the holy 
brethren of this house to witness the married 
priests disporting themselves with their chil- 
dren, wasting the revenues of the Church in 
10 


IS2 


Leofwine. 


gorgeous apparel for them and their wives, and 
the furnishing their houses.” 

Leofwine glanced at the table, and wondered 
how much the “furnishing” that one meal had 
cost. “ I understand you, my brother,” he said ; 
“ and, doubtless, if all men in the Church could 
give themselves wholly to its service without 
worldly tie, let, or hinderance, it would be for 
the advancement of holy Church ; but, seeing 
these men are married., would it be well to tear 
them from their wives ? What will become of 
these helpless women and little children ? ” 

The monk shook his head. “ That is not the 
concern of the Church,” he said ; “ she med- 
dles not with women and children ; but those 
who have entered her service must obey her 
commands.” 

“ And put away their wives ? ” 

“ Even so ; we may not pamper the body, 
as thou sayest ;” and the monk quietly took a 
draught of strong wine, while Leofwine won- 
dered what this Italian’s definition of “ pamper- 
ing the body” would include, since he did not 
think feasting to excess came within its limits. 


Doubts and Perplexities, 


153 


CHAPTER XII. 

DOUBTS AND PERPLEXITIES. 

TOFWINE passed the night in a strange 



J — ^ tumult of contending emotions. The 
scenes of excitement through which he had 
passed during the day had left him little time for 
thought, but as he knelt with the other monks 
in the church he saw nothing of his surround- 
ings, heard nothing of the Ambrosian service 
— nothing but the accusing voice of his own 
conscience, telling him he was unfit for the 
holy vocation of a monk, since, after these years 
of absence from home, he had not yet subdued 
his heart and cast out all its earthly love, and 
to-day-»it had betrayed him in showing sympa- 
thy with what he, like every other monk, should 
hate and condemn — the marriage of priests. 

As a penance for some of the day’s misdeeds 
he obtained permission to continue his devo- 
tions in the church after the rest of the brother- 
hood had retired ; and when most of the lights 
had been put out, except a few candles left 
burning on the high altar, he prostrated himself 
before the shrine of the virgin in a shadowy 


154 


Leofwine. 


recess, and beat his forehead on the marble 
pavement in the depths of his abasement and 
distress at what he deemed unfaithfulness to 
his vows. The thought of God was almost a 
terror to him, for he was the terrible Judge who 
would “ by no means clear the guilty and the 
thought of the Lord Jesus, who had died to re- 
deem the guilty from their sin, afforded him but 
little comfort, for the love of the Gospel had 
well-nigh faded out of men’s minds since the 
Church had adopted the worship of the saints 
and virgin ; for where would be the good of 
worshiping them if their help were not needed 
as intercessors ? So God, the tender, compas- 
sionate Father, who had '‘so loved the world 
that he gave his only-begotten Son ” as its ran- 
som, had gradually been removed from the place 
he had held in the Church of the apostles, and 
his only-begotten Son, " the Lamb of God that 
taketh away the sin of the world,” had been 
robbed of all his attributes, and he, too, was 
set forth as stern and unrelenting in his deal- 
ing with sinners, as a ravening wolf delighting 
in the misery of those he had redeemed rather 
than as the Lamb of love and pitiful sympa- 
thy. So turning from this " fountain of living 
water,” the Lord Jesus Christ, men had hewed 
out to themselves " broken cisterns,” that could 


Doubts and Perplexities. 155 

hold no water” — the virgin mother, and saints 
and martyrs, with their relics ; and to the most 
compassionate of these, the virgin, Leofwine now 
turned for pardon and succor in his distress. 

But although he lay there on the pavement, 
not daring to lift his eyes to the calm, marble 
face of his goddess, so great was his anguish of 
soul that no word escaped his lips after his first 
outburst of sorrowful contrition. His heart 
seemed breaking with its load, and yet he could 
only breathe the inward cry, Mercy, mercy, 
holy mother of sorrows ! ” By degrees, however, 
he grew more calm. The sorrow of heart 
seemed hushed, for the time at least, and then 
as his senses woke to the outer world once 
more he suddenly became aware that he was 
not alone — that some one had come into the 
church and was now talking. At first he 
thought it must be a penitent, like himself, and 
he resolved to creep away unnoticed ; but the 
next minute a different voice answered the first 
speaker, and in this he recognized his teacher, 
Lanfranc. 

Again he was about to creep from his hiding- 
place and make them aware of his presence, 
when he heard the words, Milan subdued, and 
brought into subjection to the holy Roman 
Church will give a precedent for the bringing 


Leofwine. 


156 

all others into the same law of obedience. The 
Saxon Church of England hath long been an 
obstinate and refractory daughter of our holy 
mother Church ; but the subduing here, in Milan, 
this heresy of allowing the priests to marry, 
will endue the council with holy courage and 
foresight to adopt such measures as shall bring 
this distant fief of the Church into due obedi- 
ence to her sons.” 

“ Doubtless thou art right, my brother, and it 
were well to invest the head of the Church — 
Christ’s vicar on earth — with all possible power ; 
but we must proceed with caution, for the Mil- 
anese are proud, and will not willingly yield the 
independence of the Church of St. Ambrose, 
who was the spiritual father of St. Augustine 
of Hippo, and baptized him here in Milan.” 

“ Nay, the people must not know that the lib- 
erty of the Church is even assailed,” said Lan- 
franc. . The question to them is, the marriage 
of the clergy, and thou and the monks of this 
house must bid them think of the waste of 
Church property in thus providing houses and 
furniture, and feeding and clothing these women 
and children — wealth that would otherwise be 
given for the benefit of the poor, and the relief 
of many grievous taxes and imposts the citizens 
now have to pay. Thou must tell them, too. 


Doubts and Pay Icxitifs. 157 

that it hath been discovered in the archives of 
the Church that even Saint Ambrose himself 
prohibited the marriage of priests, and that the 
practice crept in from the heretic Greek Church, 
which hath cut herself off from the kingdom of 
God, and is doomed by the ban of the Roman 
Church, the only Church Catholic, to endless 
misery here and hereafter. I have spoken to 
Damiani concerning this matter, exhorting him 
to control his wrath against this thing, and to 
speak again to the people mildly and persua- 
sively, telling them that their own bishop, Am- 
brose, condemned the marriage of the clergy, as 
can be proved from some of his writings.” 

“ If this could be done our gentle archbishop 
will doubtless yield his assent, and the people 
will be soothed into quiet and order. I thank 
thee, my brother, for the care thou hast shown 
in this matter,” said the abbot, for as he rose to 
leave the church, Leofwine could see that it was 
no less a personage. 

Lanfranc bowed in acknowledgment, but said, 
‘‘ I need not thy thanks, good abbot, for it is 
the duty of a monk to give himself wholly to 
the service of the Church in every place and 
in every way. This, I conceive, is one of the 
chief evils of a married clergy. They can think 
only of the individual Church they serve, and 


Leofwine. 


158 

how they may provide for their families ; but a 
monk, having no such distracting cares, can give 
himself first to the service of his house and 
order, and then to increase the power of the 
Church. And, holy father, they have no coun- 
try to serve but Rome, no laws to obey but such 
as the Church imposes, no allegiance to pay to 
earthly princes but to the pope alone. This is 
what we must bring about in all countries, and 
then will the Church rise to her full power and 
glory when she has unlimited control of all her 
clergy.’' 

It is a grand scheme, and a splendid future 
is before the Church if it can be carried out ; 
but where is the man equal to this — not the 
pope ? ” 

“ Nay, not the pope, but the lord of the pope ; 
the Cardinal Archdeacon Hildebrand. He is 
mightier at this moment than any other man in 
Europe, and yet the world hath scarcely heard 
his name, for he works quietly, secretly, beyond 
the gaze of any but a few behind the scenes. 
Naught hath been done in Rome of late but 
Hildebrand is the doer of it ; and if ever the 
Church rises from her abasement, Hildebrand 
must raise her. He hath learned long since 
what the world is slow to believe in these days 
— that knowledge is power.” 


Doubts and Perplexities. 159 

Lanfranc spoke in a tone little short of rapt- 
ure, and pronounced the name of Hildebrand 
almost with reverence, and Leofwine, who had 
heard every word, thought almost with terror 
of the man whom his master thus spoke of 
with awe. But although his ingenuous, truthful 
nature was somewhat shocked at the underhand 
working of the Roman Church to subvert the 
liberty of all others, his mind had been too long 
accustomed to regard the monks as the exclu- 
sive servants of the Church to be surprised at 
what was said regarding them. Besides, was it 
not the most natural thing in the world that 
they should acknowledge the pope as their lord- 
suzerain, just as the poor dwelling on the estate 
of a noble were bound to pay fealty and service 
to him in whatever he might command } It 
was only the feudal system brought into the 
service of the Church ; and if it were good for 
the world, most surely it was for that body. 

So Leofwine sought to justify to himself all 
the crooked dealings of his spiritual superiors, 
for how dare he question any thing the holy 
father sanctioned or commanded } Nay, it was 
a proof that he had not, with his secular dress, 
laid aside all worldliness, that he dared to think 
them less than perfect, or to deem some of those 
abbots and bishops worldly and ambitious who. 


i6o Leofvvine. 

in consideration of their great wealth, and the 
extent of the Church domains over which they 
ruled, refused obedience to the princes of the 
country in which they lived, and claimed the 
civil power as well as the spiritual jurisdiction 
over the cities and towns of their diocese. Of 
course, if the bishops and abbots were thus to 
rule in the world, taking precedence of temporal 
lords, the pope must, as their suzerain, to whom 
they alone owed obedience, take precedence of 
all kings and princes, and thus the whole world 
would be brought to the feet of the Church, 
and the golden age would begin. 

So Leofwine tried to think ; but in spite of 
all his self-upbraidings for worldliness and want 
of charity, he could not but know that some of 
those filling the highest places in the Church 
sought only the power, rank, honor, and riches 
of this world, and lived as though there were 
neither God nor heaven to be thought of at 
all. 

During the remainder of their stay at Milan, 
Leofwine was careful not to go beyond the 
monastery garden. The world was a danger- 
ous place to one so weak in the faith, whose 
heart was so unsubdued as his, and so he spent 
most of his time in the library, or scriptoriitni, 
reading, o copying some of the valuable manu- 


Doubts and Perplexities. i6i 

scripts ; for in this way Leofwine was gradually 
accumulating a vast store of knowledge, which 
his master hoped to turn to account by and by. 

Not a single question had been asked by Lan- 
franc concerning the way Leofwine had spent 
those first hours in Milan ; he only advised him 
•to search the treasures of this library, and study 
diligently while he was here, casually remark- 
ing that the citizens were on the eve of revolt, 
and it was scarcely safe for monks to walk the 
streets. 

So Leofwine set himself diligently to study, 
and had but few interruptions, for the services 
in the church were neither so long nor so fre- 
quent as at Crowland, and he had little dis- 
position to gossip with the brotherhood, since he 
did not speak the languages very fluently. 

Their stay at Milan was protracted until the 
important question which had brought the car- 
dinal legate from Rome had been settled, so far 
as was possible. The citizens were won over 
at last, and the archbishop consented to receive 
the law of the Church as dictated by the pope. 
All those priests who were married must leave 
their wives and children or be excommuni- 
cated, such marriages, not having been deemed 
lawful at the time they were contracted, being 
null and void. 


Leofwine. 


162 

Of course, in future, no priest was to be al- 
lowed to marry ; and Milan, which had been 
justly famed for the purity of life and efficiency 
of its clergy, suddenly found itself abandoned 
by the best and foremost of those of whom it 
had been proud, for some were so bold as to 
dare to think for themselves in this matter, and 
to brave the fearful thunders and threatenings 
of the Church rather than abandon their help- 
less wives and little ones. 

Lanfranc and Leofwine resumed their jour- 
ney alone, although the cardinal legate and his 
train would soon be returning to the imperial 
city ; and the archbishop of Milan was likewise 
preparing to attend the great council of bishops, 
summoned to meet in the Lateran Church. For 
the first few miles, and until after they reached 
Pavia, these two walked almost in silence ; but 
here, in his native city, Lanfranc seemed to lose 
most of the stern reserve that usually charac- 
terized him, and he pointed out to his companion 
the various points of interest in this old Lom- 
bard capital of Italy. After leaving Pavia they 
once more took the old road that led on through 
the mountain defiles of the Apennines, and were 
soon in the hill country — a perfect chaos of 
heights and hollows ; but the grand old road was 
still to be descried, never winding by a circuitous 


Doubts and Perplexities. 163 

way up the heights, where it could skirt a crag 
or ravine. It was almost as new and strange to 
the young Saxon as the passage of the Alps 
had been, although there was not the weird 
desolation here — the absence of way-marks and 
all signs of man’s presence — which had struck 
-such a chill to his heart in the Alpine passes. 
Here a rough-hewn stone cross might be met 
with sometimes, or a little shrine to the virgin 
had been put up in some sheltered nook, and at 
each of these our travelers were careful to re- 
cite prayers, for they knew not what power 
the old spirits of the mountain still retained, or 
how hard a battle the unseen saints waged for 
them while they walked quietly along the road 
in peace and safety. 

So each of the saints in the Roman calendar 
were prayed to in turn as the various sacred 
hours came round, until the dangerous mount- 
ain, with its various spirits, was left behind, and 
both our monks breathed more freely ; for even 
Lanfranc, who was, perhaps, the greatest scholar 
and most profound thinker of the age, could not 
divest himself wholly of the old superstition of 
those days ; and Leofwine, since his accusation 
of dealing with witchcraft, had believed in it 
more firmly than ever. 

The grain-fields of Lombardy were now left 


164 


Leofwine. 


behind, and, sheltered from the northern blasts 
by the “ backbone of Italy,’' the country they 
were now entering was indeed fruitful as the 
garden of the Lord. 

To Leofwine’s unaccustomed eyes the won- 
drous coloring of earth and sky, the exceeding 
beauty of every copse and dell, the beautiful 
vegetation covering all the plain, was each in 
turn a wonder he could never sufficiently ad- 
mire — never tire of watching. Almond trees 
dropped their blossoms at their feet as they 
walked ; orange and citron groves were now in 
full flower ; and the dark, shining leaves of the 
olive and fig showed in beautiful contrast to the 
drooping vines that were festooned from tree 
lo tree in some places, forming a wall of verdure 
and loveliness. And while Leofwine drank in 
with eagerness all the beautiful sounds and 
sights by which he was surrounded, and watched 
the varied coloring and grouping of trees and 
flowers by which nature had made beautiful this 
land of Italy, Lanfranc was watching him, and 
wondering whether he could mold him to his 
purpose as one of the agents for the enslaving 
of the Saxon Church. 


The Lateran Council. 


165 


CHAPTER XIII. 


THE LATER AN COUNCIL. 

S our travelers drew near the end of their 



journey, Leofwine gazed around at the 
lovely scene, and then forward to where the 
towers and steeples of the imperial city showed 
clear against the intense blue of the Italian sky, 
and he exclaimed, in the words of the psalmist : 
“ Beautiful for situation, the joy of the whole 
earth, is Mount Zion.” Lanfranc smiled at his 
enthusiasm. He had been to Rome before, and 
knew how little this city of the pope — the ob- 
ject of pious pilgrimages from all parts of Eu- 
rope — deserved its reputation for sanctity and 
holiness ; but he would not teil Leofwine any 
thing of this ; it would be better to let him find 
it out for himself, he thought. 

And so as Leofwine entered the grand old 
gates, and at last stood on the sacred ground 
trodden by the feet of saints and martyrs, he 
bowed his head in lowly reverence, and stooped 
to kiss the sacred dust, and gather up a small 
portion of it to be carried back to his mother 
as a treasure of inestimable worth. Holy 


Leofwine. 


1 66 

Rome, jewel of the Church, and glory of all peo- 
ple, thou alone, of all cities in the world, art 
worthy of such a setting ; thou art framed in 
loveliness, which thy glorious holiness doth even 
yet exceed/’ Leofwine uttered these words half 
aloud, as he lingered behind his master to take 
one last look at the fields and olive gardens in 
the distance. 

If Leofwine had seen angels in white garments 
walking here in the street, instead of the com- 
monplace looking men and women, he would 
not have been surprised in his present elevated 
state of feeling — not so surprised as he was at 
the sight of two decidedly coarse-looking monks, 
who, overhearing his words, and noticing his 
dress, exclaimed, ^‘Another barbarian pilgrim 
come to worship our Rome for a day, and curse 
it for the rest of his life ! ” 

Leofwine understood what the monks said, but 
was puzzled to comprehend the import of their 
words. Is it possible that any can be so vile, 
so lost, as to curse this our Rome ? ” he asked 
as he rejoined Lanfranc. 

Wait and see,” was the short answer ; but 
in a minute or two his master added, I have 
been at Rome before, Leofwine, and know it, 
ah ! better than you ever will — better than any 
other man, save the Cardinal, Arch-deacon Hil- 


The Lateran Coimcil. 


167 

debrand ; and I have never cursed it, nor he 
either, for this is the center from which knowl- 
edge can be made power/’ 

How often Leofwine heard these words now, 
and how greatly he longed to attain to this 
‘‘ power,” that should prove more mighty than 
sword or battle-ax in subduing men and the 
world to the sway of the Church. Surely it 
would be a sway of peace and holiness, in which 
worldly ambition would have no place, for one 
of the questions to be considered by the council 
his master had come to attend was the sale or 
gift of abbacies and bishoprics by kings and 
princes to whom they pleased. This was to be 
no longer allowed. The sole right to do this 
was to be invested in the pope, as the head of 
the Catholic Church in all lands, and Leofwine, 
as well as Lanfranc, devoutly prayed that this 
might become the means of expelling many un- 
worthy prelates. 

The young monk would not, of course, sit in 
the council, but he was to attend his master 
when needed to take notes of what was said, 
and at other times would study in the monas- 
tery library, or visit the various relics and holy 
places in the city. 

During his residence in the monastery at 

Milan he had been greatly shocked at the lax 
11 


Leofwine. 


1 68 

discipline, idleness, and positive dissipation of 
the monks ; and he rejoiced to think that such 
a state of things could not exist here under the 
eyes of the pope, for it would inevitably be such 
a shock to his holiness that he would have no 
time to think of the little independent Churches, 
like those of Milan and England, who needed 
reforming, for all his time and care would be 
given to teaching his own monks and clergy 
their duty. This Benedictine monastery, so 
grand in its architectural beauty, and command- 
ing such a splendid view of the palaces and 
churches by which it was surrounded, would 
surely rival the shrine of St. Guthlac in its in- 
dustry and charity ; only Leofwine wondered a 
little that all the monasteries seemed to be in 
the best part of the city, and as far from the 
poor as possible. He looked round the vast 
court-yard, and dim, cool cloisters, too, for any 
sign of a workshop, such as in England always 
formed a part of the establishment, and where 
the monks might follow the trades they had 
learned while in the world for the benefit of 
the house and the poor. Nothing like a work- 
shop was to be seen here, and the brethren 
were sitting in groups laughing and chatting, 
or slowly pacing up and down the garden or 
cloister, and Leofwine eveYi thought he heard 


The Later an Council, 169 

the rattle of dice as he passed one group sitting 
close together. A chill feeling of disappoint- 
ment crept over him as he noted these things, 
and looked in the f^ces of those who were to 
be his companions for the next few months, for 
his stay in Rome might be a prolonged one 
if the council continued its sittings. Not one 
of all the brethren who honored the young pil- 
grim with a stare answered to his ideal of a 
monk. Hard, callous self-indulgence was writ- 
ten in all their faces, and not one could compare 
favorably with those against whom the Church 
had pronounced its ban of excommunication 
because they would not forsake their wives and 
little ones ; and before he was aware of it Leof- 
wine was once more daring to think for himself 
on these things, instead of sinking his own indi- 
viduality and giving himself up wholly to the 
guidance of the Church. Of course, he was 
unhappy afterward, and assured himself again 
and again that the Church was merciful and 
good in all her dealings, and that if the world, 
instead of the Church, gained the upper hand 
in the contest that was now raging, violence 
and cruelty, that were now being subdued, 
would reign triumphant, and the weak, the poor, 
and the helpless be utterly crushed. 

And in this thought Leofwine judged truly 


I/O 


Leofwine. 


enough. The contest now being waged was 
for the empire of mind over brute force, and 
the Church, which now represented this mind, 
this intellect, sought to teach all kings and 
princes who had hitherto governed by force of 
arms or audacity of means that they, like their 
meanest bondsmen, were responsible beings, 
and this new moral restraint was already being 
felt all over Europe. That the Church should 
strive by all means to strengthen herself for 
this warfare, and, to obtain the domination of 
all minds, should stoop to use all means deemed 
likely to effect this, is not surprising ; but Leof- 
wine, living in the din and turmoil of the battle, 
could not judge as fairly of the good or evil 
effected by the Church in those days as we 
can ; he could only sorrow and rejoice by turns 
as the evil or good presented itself before him. 

Of companionship between Leofwine and 
these brethren of his order in Rome there was 
none, but he could not help hearing the gossip 
of the establishment sometimes ; gossip which 
brought a blush of shame and righteous indig- 
nation to his manly cheek against these so- 
called holy monks who boasted of their sin, in- 
stead of being ashamed of it. The thought 
of attending the great council of bishops and 
cardinals, now assembling at Rome, was far 


The Latcran CoimciL 171 

more pleasant to Leofwine, and he was glad 
when Lanfranc told him to be in readiness to 
attend him to the Church of St. John’s Lat- 
eran, where the council was to meet, and 
where he would see face to face, with no vail 
between, God’s vicar and representative, the 
pope. 

It was with a feeling of awe almost amount- 
ing to terror that the young pilgrim entered 
the grand old church, dim and shadowy now, 
coming out of the morning sunshine that flooded 
all the streets, and silent with a brooding silence 
that, to Leofwine’s excited fancy, seemed to be- 
token the mighty change that was to result to 
the world from this meeting of so many of the 
great scholars and divines of Europe. 

As yet, however, only a few of the more 
humble members of the council had arrived ; 
but soon miters and croziers began to make 
their appearance, and embroidered stoles and 
crimson and purple silk garments were dotted 
here and there as one bishop or abbot after an- 
other took their appointed seats, leaving their 
more humble attendants, like Leofwine, at the 
rear of the church. Immediately surrounding 
the gorgeous throne that had been erected for 
the pope were the seats for the cardinals, ranged 
in a semicircle ; and when nearly the whole of 


1/2 


Leofwine. 


the bishops had arrived, these filed in from an- 
other entrance. Grave, thoughtful men they all 
looked, but the eyes of all assembled in the 
church rested on one, the least noticeable of 
all as regarded personal appearance, for he 
was under the middle size, and not at all com- 
manding in carriage. When, however, his face 
was turned, and one could see the lightning 
glance of his eagle eye, every thing but the 
calm, steadfast purpose of that firm mouth, the 
unbending sternness of that broad brow, were 
forgotten. It needed not the whisper, Hilde- 
brand, the cardinal archdeacon, and lord of the 
pope,” to inform Leofwine who this was, and 
his eyes were still fastened upon him, as if held 
by some fascination, when the pope himself en- 
tered, crowned with the triple crown, and bear- 
ing the other insignia of his office. As he 
mounted the throne every knee bent before 
him, and Leofwine kneeled down on the marble 
floor in lowliest reverence, for it was little less 
than seeing God himself thus to see the pope in 
his august character of chief shepherd of the 
Church, and successor of St. Peter, although a 
questioning thought would arise unbidden to 
Leofwine’s mind as he recalled something he 
had read in the Gospel concerning St. Peter 
being a lowly fisherman, and in another place 


The Lateran Council, 173 

of a certain exhortation addressed to bishops, 
not to become “ lords over God’s heritage.” 

Every thing that outward pomp and circum- 
stance could do to add additional impressive- 
ness to the pope’s presence were brought to- 
gether, and the Court of King Edward, as Leof- 
wine had seen it at Windshore, was far more 
simple, and the monarch more approachable, 
than this chief bishop of Christ’s Church. In 
his opening address the pope spoke of the early 
councils of the “ fathers ” of the Church, but 
he did not mention that these were called and 
presided over by the reigning emperors, and that 
in the first — the famous Council of Nicea, called 
by Constantine — the bishop or .pope of Rome 
was merely represented by a humble presbyter. 
All this, however, the present pontiff ignored, 
and spoke, as his successors have since done, of 
the early councils and all councils being called 
and presided over by the bishops of Rome. 

The first business question proposed for the 
council to settle was the future election of the 
pope. Hitherto the people, as well as the secu- 
lar clergy, cardinals, and bishops, had* a voice in 
this matter, the emperor of Germany, as the 
successor of the great Charlemagne, confirming 
or rejecting the choice. Now it was proposed 
that the cardinals and bishops only should have 


174 


Leofwine. 


the power of election, and the people of Rome 
and the emperor should have but a nominal 
show of power in the affair. 

Another rule, that none but a Roman should 
occupy the pontifical throne, unless there was 
not a fit person in all the clergy of the city to 
be called to the office, was also to be introduced. 
This was a blow aimed at the long line of Ger- 
man popes, who, although they had raised the 
Church from the degradation in which she had 
so long lain prostrate and powerless, did not 
favor monasticism to the extent Hildebrand de- 
sired, and therefore they were to be shorn of 
influence, and shut out from the papacy. Both 
these measures were quickly carried. 

The next question was that concerning the 
marriage of the clergy, which was little more 
than reprimanding those biahops who were 
known to favor it. Then came the sale of 
benefices, which was summarily taken out of 
the hands of all kings and princes and trans- 
ferred to the pope, who was thus made the su- 
preme head of all the Churches. By the time 
these questions had been settled some of the 
bishops had grown weary, and deeming the 
next matter to be brought before the council as 
somewhat insignificant, did not give it much 
attention. 


The Lateral! Council, 


I/S 


Lanfranc, however, was most busy and ear- 
nest over this question, for it was this that had 
brought him to Rome in the interest of Count 
William of Normandy, who, with his Norman 
kinsman, Godfrey of Naples, had been under 
the ban of excommunication. 

There were many secret meetings over this, 
in which both Hildebrand and Lanfranc took a 
warm interest ; and what puzzled Leofwine very 
much, the state of the Saxon Church seemed in 
some inexplicable way involved in its settle- 
ment. He was questioned and cross ques- 
tioned by Hildebrand concerning the state of 
the monasteries and the influence of the monks, 
and the popularity of the Norman prelates, and 
then upon the adoption of the Norman language, 
customs, and dress by many English families. 
Then the questions turned upon Earl Harold, 
and the slight favor he had ever shown to the 
Church, and the openly expressed dislike, he 
entertained for monastic institutions. What 
connection all this could have with the humble 
request of Duke Godfrey to be permitted to 
enter the Church once more and receive her 
blessing, or how it could affect Count Will- 
iam of Normandy, Leofwine was at a loss to 
perceive. 

That these two fierce conquerors, whose only 


176 


Leofwine. 


law seemed to be their own resistless will, 
should be amenable to some power beyond and 
above themselves, was, he thought, an ample 
proof of the truth of his master s saying ; but 
how the acceptance of this their meek subjection 
by the Church should in any way be connected 
with his beloved Church and fatherland, was a 
puzzle Leofwine found it impossible to solve. 

The curse that had hitherto been supposed 
to rest upon the Norman undertakings was, 
however, removed ; and, in gratitude for the 
clemency of the holy father, Duke Godfrey 
promised the aid of his soldiers whenever they 
should be needed. 

The most important question still remained 
for consideration, and this was to be settled by 
the recantation or execution of a canon of Tours, 
in France. He had been charged with heresy 
before, and at the word heresy Leofwine roused 
himself to listen more attentively and look more 
carefully at the prisoner now brought before 
the council. At the mention of the name of 
Beranger, however, he started and trembled, for 
he had often longed to see this man, whose 
fame had reached to remote Crowland, but he 
would have been afraid to seek him for fear of 
incurring the anger of the Church. 

Now, however, he stood before him unsought. 


The Lateran Council . 


177 


to declare what he believed concerning the 
mysterious change that was supposed to take 
place in the bread and wine after the words 
of consecration had been pronounced by the 
priest. Beranger had often expressly stated that 
the bread and wine in the sacrament were 7iot 
changed into the body and blood of the Lord 
Jesus Christ ; but now, in the elaborate de- 
fense and vindication of his opinions before the 
council, it was difficult to understand what the 
“ mystical change ” he spoke of did mean be- 
yond this, that he had learned this truth or 
heresy from a monk of Scotland, Erigena Sco- 
tus, who had never been accused of heresy. It 
was easy, however, to account for this, since 
the Church had not then the power to deter- 
mine what her children should believe. Now, 
however, it was different. The pope and the 
council alone could determine what was truth 
and what was error, and what the people should 
be taught. For men to be allowed to think for 
themselves could not for one moment be toler- 
ated ; the Church must fix the boundaries of 
faith and doctrine, and Beranger was compelled 
to accept this as the ultimatum, and abjure all 
strange teachings before he left Rome. 


178 


Leofwine. 


CHAPTER XIV. 


BITTER DISAPPOINTMENT. 

TOFWINE sat in the spacious library of 



-I — ^ the monastery, a ponderous volume open 
before him, and a little leaden image of the 
Virgin lying upon the page. It was attached 
to a string tied round his neck, and the young 
monk was gazing at it with mingled awe and 
rapture, for it was his master’s parting gift be- 
fore he left Rome to return to Normandy, and 
had been blessed by the pope himself, so that 
the wearer of this precious treasure was safe 
against all the spells of witchcraft and all the 
machinations of evil spirits. 

The council was over, and most of the bishops 
had left Rome, and the city was nearly empty, 
for the pope had gone on a progress through the 
States of the Church, and to visit the domain 
of the Norman conquerors in the south of Italy, 
and test the loyalty of the troops that had been 
offered to aid him in any plan he might be 
unable to carry through by mere threats and 
commands. To have it known that he had such 
a force of conquering soldiers at his back would 


Bitter Disappointment. 179 

be most convenient just now, for some of the 
refractory nobles of Rome were already jealous 
of the pope’s temporal power, and thought so 
little of the holy relics, or the pious pilgrims 
who visited them, that they would lie in wait for 
the richest of these votaries going to or leaving 
the city, and rob them of all they could lay their 
hands upon. 

For Leofwine, however, there was little dan- 
ger of such an interruption, for he had no store 
of golden crowns to purchase the finger or 
thumb of a saint, and so he had contented him- 
self with merely visiting the shrines of the 
martyrs and gazing on the sacred relics, fondly 
hoping that the spiritual benefit promised to all 
who should perform faithfully the prescribed 
forms and prayers would avail to set his heart 
free from all earthly taint, and give him that 
perfect faith and trust in the Church that now 
so often failed, and left him to question some 
of her doings, as though she could err in any 
thing she deemed wise or right. But the relics 
seemed to have failed in this matter even while 
worshiping them, for that very day, while kneel- 
ing before a miraculous image of the virgin, a 
poor scholar had abruptly asked him, Dost 
thou believe in the sacrifice of the mass.^” 
For a moment Leofwine had been puzzled to 


i8o Leofwine. 

understand the meaning of the question ; but 
the young man, who seemed a stranger, like 
himself, to Rome and its ways, exclaimed, Is 
this Rome as holy as we are taught to believe 
it ? Is the pope or council as wise and prudent 
as they each pretend to be ?” 

It is not for us to question aught concerning 
the lord pope,” replied Leofwine. 

“ Then thou dost believe in him and the 
mass, with all the changes that are said to be 
wrought in the bread and wine by the words 
of the sacrificing priest.” 

‘‘ And dost not thou believe that they become 
the very body, bones, blood, and divinity of the 
Lord Christ ” asked Leofwine. 

‘'Nay, I believe that the Lord Christ was 
sacrificed once for the sins of the world — that 
he then paid the whole penalty for sin, and can- 
not be dragged from heaven at the word of a 
priest ; and more — ” 

“ Nay, nay, no more,” answered Leofwine, 
who already feared he had heard too much. 
“ Thou art a believer in this heresy of Beran- 
ger, who hath lately recanted before the council 
all his errors.” 

A sorrowful look overshadowed the face of 
the young man. “ My gentle master hath been 
weak, and sorely hath it grieved us, his poor 


Bitter Disappointment. i8i 

scholars ; but we know that he doth hate and 
detest the doctrine of the mass, and will teach 
that the sacrifice for sin cannot be made again 
at the will of every priest so soon as he shall 
reach Tours again ; and we, who have learned 
this from his lips, will teach all men the same.” 

“ Thou art bold to come to Rome with thy 
teachings,” said Leofwine.” 

‘'All things are tolerated at Rome,” replied 
the stranger. " Look at those monks who lounge 
through the piazzas and shuffle barefoot through 
the street — didst thou ever know any of them 
to work ? ” 

Leofwine could not say that he had ; but he felt 
bound to defend his ecclesiastical brethren from 
the insinuations of a stranger, and so he said, 
" Men of this sunny land seem less disposed to 
work than in our northern clime — they are think- 
ers rather than workers, as with us,” he added. 

" Call them mystical dreamers, and thou dost 
speak truly ; and this mystery of iniquity — the 
mass — by which men are taught to worship a 
morsel of bread as their God instead of the 
Lord Christ, who bore the sins of the world 
once for all — this, I say, is the fruit of monas- 
tic dreamings, which here ever tends to mys- 
ticism, whatever it may do in thy northern 
monasteries.” 


i 82 


Leofwine. 


'' The monks work with us at all trades, be- 
sides encouraging learning, and teaching the 
best manner of tilling the ground and gather- 
ing the fruits of the earth. Say not that the 
monasteries are evil,” added Leofwine earnest- 
ly, for they are the refuge of all good, gentle, 
pious souls who here find the rest and peace 
that can never be found in the world.” 

And what about the world they were sent 
to make better by their presence in it — the 
world that God sent his own son to redeem, 
and many sons since, to make it better than it 
is this day asked the scholar boldly. 

Leofwine stared. “ The world is evil, fierce, 
and cruel,” he said at last. 

“ And will it ever be better, think you, while 
those whom God sends to teach it gentle pa- 
tience and forbearing love leave home and kin- 
dred — the lawless brothers and unkind father, 
perhaps — and shut themselves up in a monastery 
where they may read and dream in peace, leav- 
ing their fellow-men to grow more lawless, more 
fierce and cruel, because they see nothing of the 
patience and gentleness that is shut up within 
the walls of the monastery ? ” 

It is the only refuge for peaceful men — they 
are driven there by tlie rude, rough world. 
They cannot bear the fierce, cruel stiife, the 


Bitter Disappointment, 183 

mocking and jeering of evil men — these gentle 
souls.” 

‘'Think you they are more gentle than the 
Lord Christ ? ” interrupted the scholar. 

The question was a strange one to the young 
monk. The Lord Christ gentle 'I The blessed 
virgin mother, of course, was gentle, and kind, 
and compassionate ; and instinctively Leofwine 
bowed his head as his eyes fell upon her image 
close by. 

The stranger noticed the reverent action 
and guessed what he was thinking of. “ Thou 
dost rob the Lord Christ by this worship of his 
mother,” he said. “ I tell thee, monk, that the 
Lord Christ was a more gentle soul than thy 
mother, or thy sister, or any man that ever 
lived, but he forsook not the world. There 
were monks in his day, too — the Essenes had 
withdrawn themselves from the world because 
it was too evil for them to dwell in, but the 
Lord Christ never joined himself to them or 
dwelt alone in the wilderness as they did. He 
worked in the carpenters shop at Nazareth, 
went about the cities and towns, and was pres- 
ent at a marriage-feast as well as the death-bed. 
I tell thee, monk, the Lord Christ lived in the 
world to teach it by his example, and God sent 

thee here to do the same.” 

12 


Leofwine. 


184 

Leofwine wondered who this bold stranger 
could be, but he had no opportunity of asking, 
for, as he finished speaking, he turned away to 
address another pious devotee who had jour- 
neyed to Rome to worship at the shrines of the 
saints. 

The young monk, however, felt too much 
disturbed by what the stranger had said to con- 
tinue his devotions this morning ; and so after 
vainly trying to fix his thoughts upon the pa- 
tience and glory of St. Perpetua, he suffered his 
mind, while he turned his steps toward his mon- 
astery, to wander back to what the stranger had 
said. He went direct to the library and took 
one of its ponderous books to read, but finding 
that even his beloved study of medicine could 
not drive away thoughts of the poor scholar he 
had met, he gave himself up to the indulgence 
of recalling and thinking over all that had been 
said, after taking due precaution that none of 
this heresy should do him any harm by placing 
his precious little leaden image on the book be- 
fore him. 

And here he sat for several hours toying 
with the charm that was to preserve him from 
all witchcraft and evil, so fully confident in its 
power to do all that had been promised, that 
he ventured to recall much of what he had 


Bitter Disappointment, 185 

heard during the trial of Beranger before the 
council as well as what had been said that 
morning. 

That from these musings he only confused 
his mind and made himself more unhappy than 
ever was but natural, and finding that all the 
penances and prayers offered here in the city of 
the saints failed to give him that peace he now 
so earnestly longed to find, he resolved to con- 
tinue his pilgrimage to Jerusalem, and there at 
the tomb where Christ had been laid, surely he 
should obtain rest, peace, and satisfaction for 
all his doubts and questionings. 

It was a dangerous journey in those days 
even for a Christian monk or pilgrim, for the 
Eastern, or Greek Church, as well as the empire, 
had entirely separated itself from Rome, treat- 
ing it as heretic and idolatrous since its admis- 
sion of image worship, which the Church of 
Constantinople had long since abolished. They 
had ceased to quarrel over this, or even anathe- 
matize each other ; but it was because the ha- 
tred was too bitter and deep seated rather than 
otherwise ; and so from this Church, which had 
once been the main body of the Church Cath- 
olic, Leofwine could not expect either help or 
good will. Part of the way, too, he desired to go 
lay through the Greek Empire, which was now 


Leofwine. 


1 86 

as much shut out from western Europe as 
though it were in another world. Leofwine 
would scarcely have had the courage to pene- 
trate into this unknown region of Greek cities 
and towns, but Lanfranc had desired him to 
take this route, if he continued his pilgrimage 
to the Holy Land, and bring him back a faith- 
ful report of the learning of these people who 
dwelt beyond the seas. The young Saxon had 
smiled at the thought of finding learning beyond 
Rome. Was not this the favored city, the 
center of the earth and the world’s civilization ? 
All the countries lying beyond must be in semi- 
darkness and barbarism, if not actually savage, 
like the Mohammedans, who had possessed them- 
selves of the holy city, Jerusalem, and only 
suffered Christian pilgrims to worship there as 
a great favor. He would need his precious lit- 
tle leaden image on such a journey as this, and 
so, securely hiding it beneath his serge frock, 
as a miser would conceal his costliest treasure, 
he set out on his unknown pilgrimage, depend- 
ent upon the charity of those he should meet 
while in a friendly country, and resolving to 
subsist upon roots or herbs, or any thing he 
could find, when beyond the confines of Roman 
religion and Roman civilization. 

It would be months, perhaps years, before 


Bitter Disappointment, 


187 


his weary feet would tread these streets of Rome 
again, and when he passed slowly through the 
gate, he turned to look back, as he had done 
when he first entered, and at the same moment 
there recurred to him the recollection of that 
moment of rapture when he had gathered up the 
dust to treasure as something holy, because it 
was the dust of Rome. He shook his head mourn- 
fully as he recalled his exalted feelings then. 

“ Is it that I am so unworthy that I cannot 
feel the same reverence for the city of the saints 
that I once did ?” he murmured, half aloud. 

“ Nay, nay, thou hast been enlightened, like 
every other simple pilgrim that travels hither,” 
answered a voice at his elbow. '‘Unworthy!” 
repeated the stranger, looking beneath Leof- 
wine’s cowl at his fair and ingenuous face, with 
its look of earnest anxiety ; “ thou art far too 
simple and honest for our monks of Rome, 
and so doubtless they have treated thee none 
too well.” 

“ Nay^ I have nought to complain of in 
their treatment of me,” answered Leofwine 
promptly. 

“ Thou art more fortunate than many, then ; 
for our monasteries could tell such tales as 
would make the ears of a stranger tingle,” and 
with a short laugh the citizen passed on about 


Leofwine. 


1 88 

his business, while Leofwine still gazed at the 
numerous church towers, each of which seemed 
to reproach him for his want of faith in the 
holiness of this city of the pope ; and yet, try as 
he would, Leofwine could not feel satisfied with 
the things that were done here by those who 
professed to be the holiest of the holy. 

The monks were idle and luxurious, even 
where they were not worse ; the higher dignita- 
ries, bishops and cardinals, were haughty and 
ambitious, struggling for the richest benefices 
and highest honors they could attain ; and even 
Rome's pattern cardinal arch-deacon, who lived 
the life of an anchorite in the midst of abound- 
ing luxury, even Hildebrand himself, failed to 
satisfy Leofwine entirely, for in his ambition to 
set the Church above the authority of princes 
and all temporal law he did not hesitate to bind 
men’s consciences to the belief of whatever the 
Church should dictate, or scruple to use any 
means for the furtherance of his own purposes 
many of which were questionable. The secret 
conference of the recent council had revealed to 
Leofwine a great deal of what he would have 
preferred to reniqin ignorant of, and he sighed 
for the peaceful trust and tranquillity of Crow- 
land, and the rapturous drean^s he had there in- 
dulged concerning the holy father and cardinals. 


Bitter Disappointment, 


189 


thinking of them as scarcely less holy than the 
angels of God, and of Rome as almost surpass- 
ing heaven itself in its purity and peace. 

And so, like many another pilgrim, Leofwine 
left the world’s metropolis with a heart bowed 
down by sorrowful disappointment, but hoping 
still to find rest and peace at the holy sepulcher, 
whither so many now wended their steps. 


Leofwine. 


190 


). 


CHAPTER XV. 

AMBITION’S END. 

HE sun was casting slant rays on the old 



-L streets and towers of Chester, where the 
great Earl of Mercia had often held his folk- 
mote, and heard the complaints of his thanes 
and tenants. Earl Alfgar had spent much of 
his time here since his father’s death, for it was 
near the border country of Wales, and messen- 
gers could pass quickly to and from his royal 
son-in-law, Gryffyth. 

Few messengers reached Chester now but 
such as bore ill tidings to the earl ; for the last 
venture of Gryffyth had brought Harold, God- 
win’s son, from London with a great army, 
determined to subjugate the turbulent little 
kingdom of Wales, and bring Gryffyth to ac- 
knowledge King Edward as his superior lord. 
This would strike a blow at the high ambition 
of Alfgar to be the ancestor of the future kings 
of .England as well as Wales. Yet what could 
he do more to help Gryffyth ? 

He asked this question of his son, Morcar, as 
he entered the chamber — not that he expected 


Ambition's End. 


191 

to receive an answer, but rather as a vent for 
his restless impatience. 

Nay, my father, think not of Gryfifyth, but 
of thyself. Thy wounds need the care of some 
skillful leech,” said the young man anxiously. 

But the earl only gave a grunt of impatience. 
'' My wounds shall be cared for when Harold, 
Godwin's son, hath been driven out of Wales/' 
he said. “ Send the monk to me who came 
here this morning ; he said the brethren of the 
monasteries were all on our side, although Gryf- 
fyth had burned and pillaged some of their 
property.'' 

It was useless for Morcar to contradict his 
father even if he dared ; so he left the chamber, 
and the shambling steps of the monk were soon 
heard along the stone passage. But with him 
went another messenger — one whose arrival no 
one had dared to mention in his presence, al- 
though she had already been some hours in the 
house. She was a little fair-haired, blue-eyed girl, 
the daughter of Aldytha and Gryffyth, who had 
been brought here by her faithful nurse Githa, 
for Wales could not now afford a safe shelter 
for the baby princess ; and Alfgar knew, when 
he saw her, that the fortunes of Gryffyth must 
be indeed desperate, or he would not part with 
his only child. 


192 


Leofwine. 


As his eyes fell upon her the earl uttered a 
deep groan, and, turning to the monk, he said, 
“ Is all lost, think you ? Who brought this child 
hither?” 

The latter question, however, was unheeded 
by the monk. ''The Normans will rule in our 
monasteries even as they do here in England,” 
he groaned. 

" And what matters it who rules, ye hooded 
crows, so long as ye have enough to eat ? ” de- 
manded the earl, angrily. 

" Much doth it matter to us free Welsh 
whether the liberty to worship God after the 
manner of our fathers be secured to us, or 
whether Norman prelates bring new laws and 
a new ritual from Rome into our Church,” an- 
swered the monk boldly. But the earl paid 
little heed to these words. The pain of his 
wounds had made itself felt during the last few 
minutes as it had not done before, and he turned 
to the monk with another question. " Art thou 
skilled in leech-craft?” he asked; "dost thou 
know the use of healing herbs and medica- 
ments ? ” 

" I have learned somewhat of the properties 
of roots and healing balsams, and the charm 
dwelling in many precious stones,” answered 
the monk. 


Ambition s End, 


193 


*‘Then cure me of these wounds, and this 
raging fever that burns in my veins, and I will 
secure the liberties of thy Church against Nor- 
man upstarts, for I hate them as much as thou 
dost — as I hate this Harold, the son of our old 
foe, Godwin, who is stealing the hearts of all 
Englishmen, they say, and would steal mine 
own and my child’s with his fair words about 
Englishmen dwelling in peace together, and 
uniting for the common good.” 

The monk turned aside his head for a mo- 
ment, and then said calmly, Earl Harold coun- 
sels wisely. If my forefathers had but made 
common cause against the foes of Britain, the 
freedom of our Church would not now be in 
danger.” 

The earl made an impatient gesture as the 
monk proceeded to examine his wounds. Thoii 
canst think of nothing but thy Church. Did not 
ye Cymri receive your religion from Rome as 
well as England and Normandy.^” 

‘'We did, noble Alfgar, but it was the Rome, 
or, rather, the religion, as taught by the Apostle 
Paul and such noble converts as Claudia and 
Pudens, that the British Church adopted. The 
Rome of to-day would rob all Churches of their 
freedom, and compel them to adopt a ritual and 
receive laws not known to our forefathers.” 


194 


Leofwine. 


'' Enough ! enough ! exclaimed the earl ; 
we will save the land of the Cymri, and its 
Church, too — Gryfifyth and I/’ 

But the monk shook his head and sighed. 
Every messenger arriving at Chester brought 
only news of fresh disaster having befallen the 
hitherto all-conquering kijng of Wales ; and of 
continuous victories won by the English under 
Harold. The little Welsh princess was received 
with sighs and groans, instead of smiles, when- 
ever she appeared among her grandfather’s 
house-carls and lithsmen ; for this Welsh alli- 
ance had brought nothing but danger and dis- 
grace, ruin, and, it might be, death, to the earl of 
Mercia, their master, as well as to themselves. 

Githa, the queen’s faithful bower maiden, who 
was the little girl’s nurse, now tried to rouse 
jj^er spirits and smile when the little one prat- 
tled of her home among the mountains, and her 
father’s falcons and hawks, and the harper who 
sang brave songs to please her childish fancy. 
But it is not easy to smile when the heart is 
sad, and Githa had her own private sorrows just 
now to endure, besides the anxiety concerning 
the fate of her mistress. 

Nothing had yet been heard from her brother 
Alric, and her father lay sick at Bourne — sick 
from wounds received in the numerous battles, 


Ambition' s End. 


195 


and from exposures in the Welsh marshes ; so 
that the next messenger coming from the Dane- 
lagh might bring the direful news that he was 
a wolf’s-head and outlaw as well as an invalid, 
and if this calamity should fall upon him who 
would protect her mother and little sister. 

So the smile with which Githa greeted her 
charge was a sadly weary one, and the little 
Welsh princess must have found her home 
at Chester very dull. At first she was taken 
every day to the chamber of her grandfather, 
for her childish talk amused the earl, and seemed 
to calm his restlessness a little. With his favor- 
ite falcon perched on the dosel of his chair or on 
his left wrist, and the little girl playing among 
the rushes on the floor at his feet, he would for- 
get his disappointed ambition for a few minutes, 
or indulge the hope, wild as it seemed, of yet 
seeing Aldytha on the throne of England. 

If it were not for this Harold now, who is 
certainly wise in war and witan — if it were not 
that he stood on Edward’s right hand — Gryffyth 
might even now be on his way to London, and 
Aldytha preparing braveries to deck the halls 
of Westminster. And yet — yet the wise woman 
said she should surely sit there, the lady of En- 
gland, but that the death of a mighty man must 
take place first. What, ho, there, house-carls !” 


196 


Leofwine. 


he called in his impatience, run to the city 
gates and ask if aught hath been heard of 
Earl Harold---whether he hath been wounded 
in trying to scale the mountains of our ally, 
Gryffyth.” 

The men silently obeyed their master ; but 
there was little need to go to the city gates, or 
ask if Earl Harold were wounded, for every 
peasant coming in to market brought some tale 
of the great Englishman’s prowess or wisdom, 
and of Welsh defeat and submission. In vain the 
monk-leech begged his patient to lie in bed and 
be calm or his wounds could not heal. The earl 
was too impatient to rest, and the fever burned 
more fiercely in his veins in consequence, and 
the little girl was shut out of his chamber, and 
only his sons, Morcar, and Edwin, with the faith- 
ful Welsh monk, were admitted ; but they could 
not shut out the wild, ambitious dreams or the 
vexing cares that harassed him. At length 
came the news that not Harold, but Gryffyth, 
the king, was dead, and Aldytha a fugitive and 
widow. The news reached Alfgar through the 
carelessness of one of the house-carls, and it 
proved his death-blow too. 

A few days later it was known throughout 
Chester that Earl Alfgar was dead, and his two 
young sons had agreed to divide the earldom 


Ambition's End, 


197 


between them. Before the funeral Aldytha, 
with a few Welsh maidens in attendance upon 
her, and the escort Earl Harold had provided 
for her safety, arrived from Conway. She was 
still beautiful ; but her face looked hard, almost 
unfeeling, as though her misfortunes had proved 
— as they surely will to all unless sanctified by 
God — curses rather than blessings. 

The death of her father affected Aldytha far 
more deeply than the murder of her husband 
had done ; for the brave Welsh king — last de- 
scendant of the old royal race— who had held 
the fastnesses of the mountains long after all 
the rest of Britain had been subjugated, had 
not died in the din of battle, as many of his 
followers had done, but was foully murdered 
by three tributary chiefs whom he had for- 
merly conquered, and who sent his head to 
Harold, thinking it would please the English 
earl. But the victor who had conquered Wales 
had a brave man’s respect for the gallant king, 
and despised the dastards who could commit 
such an act ; and so he did what he could for 
the widowed queen when she became his pris- 
oner, and Aldytha was not ungrateful. 

When telling Githa of his. considerate kind- 
ness toward her she seemed to forget all sorrow, 
but that he had gone his way to London, and 


1 98 


Leofwine. 


they were not likely to meet again. He is 
the noblest man in England this day, although 
he be my father’s foe and my husband’s con- 
queror,” concluded the lady. 

And hath taken the crown from thy brow,” 
added Githa, who had her own share of vanity, 
and was proud of being bower maiden to a 
queen. 

‘‘ It was ever a crown of thorns, Githa, and 
that thou knowest. If my father had chosen 
for me such a man as Earl Harold I could — ” 
but there the widow suddenly stopped, and her 
pale face was suffused as she stooped to speak 
to her little girl, who was playing at her feet. 

After the funeral of Earl Alfgar, Aldytha 
resolved to go, with her child and Githa, to 
Bourne, where Godiva, her grandmother, still 
lived, for Edwin and Morcar had folkmotes to 
attend in various parts of their earldom, and 
many grievances to redress, besides keeping a 
close watch upon their neighbor Tostig, the 
earl of Northumbria, Harold’s brother, who 
had joined him against the Welsh, and might 
now turn his conquering arms against his old 
foe of Mercia. Tostig was as restless and am- 
bitious as Alfgar had been, and cruelly oppressed 
his people to enrich himself and enable him to 
carry on any predatory warfare he might choose, 


Ambition's E^td, 


199 


so that the young earls of Mercia had to look 
well to their doings and the government of 
their people. 

So neither Chester, nor Coventry, nor any of 
the large towns, could be offered as an asylum 
for the widowed queen just now, and Githa was 
very glad to hear that the dear old Danelagh 
would once more be their home, at least for a 
short time. She had news to take to the old 
homestead — news that would gladden her fa- 
thers heart — for Earl Morcar had himself seen 
Lord Hereward in Ireland, and Alric was with 
him. They had gone since to Flanders, and so 
Githa, whose ideas of geography were very con- 
fused, felt sure that Leofwine would meet him 
somewhere, since they were now both beyond 
the seas. As soon, therefore, as her mistress 
was comfortably installed at Bourne, Githa set 
out to walk to her father s house. 

She had not told any one where she was 
going, except Aldytha, for she wanted to sur- 
prise her mother by suddenly appearing in the 
great hall, for their coming to Bourne had been 
so sudden and unexpected that the Lady Godiva 
could scarcely believe it was Aldytha when she 
entered her chamber. Githa wanted to sur- 
prise her mother in a similar way, and she was 

likewise anxious to hear how her father’s wounds 
18 


200 


Leofwine. 


were progressing. In her impatience to ascer- 
tain this she failed to notice how deserted the 
court-yard appeared, and how the great wolf 
dog greeted her with a whine rather than a joy- 
ous bark of welcome ; but when she reached 
the door leading into the great hall, that usually 
stood open to all comers, she found it closed ; 
the heavy wooden latch was down, and securely 
fastened with a skewer. 

A feeling of sickness came over her as she 
noticed this, but still she could not give up all 
hope at once, and she crept round the house to 
the lattice of her mother's bower, and, mounting 
a stone, she looked in, calling, Mother ! moth- 
er ! " But only her own voice sounded against 
the massive timber of the walls, and Githa then 
became convinced that the old house was empty 
and deserted. But where could they have gone 
— her father and mother and Edburgha, with 
the house-carls and slaves and cattle — and all 
at once there rushed upon her mind the terrible 
dread she had forgotten lately — her father 
might be an outlaw for his share in the Welsh 
expedition. 

To jump down from the stone she had 
mounted and rush from the court-yard was the 
work of a moment, and she was hastening back 
toward the village of Bourne, where Godiva lived. 


Ambition 's End, 


201 


when a man suddenly appeared from a neigh- 
boring hut, and Githa instantly recognized him 
as one of her father s slaves. 

'' Gurth, what hast thou done with my father 
and mother ? she asked impatiently. 

“ Nay, I have had naught to do with them of 
late,” said the man in a half-offended tone ; 
they are at Crowland.” 

‘‘ And wherefore art thou here, then, Gurth ^ ” 
asked Githa. 

'^Because I am no longer Gurth, the slave, 
but Eric’s sixhaendsman, and abide on mine 
own land, and in mine own house.” 

“And my father.^” asked Githa anxiously, 
thinking little of the freeing of this slave in the 
weightier one concerning her father. 

“ He is outlawed, as thou knowest, all through 
the sorceries of a witch-wife, some say, and hath 
taken refuge in the sacred isle, for evil men hath 
come to our Danelagh — men of Northumbria — 
who would have lifted their hands against Eric 
when he was declared wolf’s head, and so — ” 

“ Wherefore came these men from Northum- 
bria ? ” asked Githa. 

“ Because Tostig, their earl, hath sorely op- 
pressed them. Men of our Danelagh would 
not raise hand or tongue against Eric, but he 
is outlaw and wolf’s head to these strangers.” 


202 


Leofwine. 


But he is safe now at Crowland ?” she said. 

The man opened his eyes at the question. 

Is not the sacred isle the sanctuary of St. 
Guthlac ! Dare any man invade the holdings 
of the saints or the sanctuary of holy Church !” 
and he crossed himself devoutly at the bare 
thought of such sacrilege. 

Githa heaved a sigh of relief as she turned 
once more toward the mansion of Lady Godiva, 
and she murmured, What should we do with- 
out holy Church ! Like a tender mother, she 
shelters men and saves the world and de- 
voutly repeating an ave in thanksgiving to the 
virgin, she passed on her way. 


In London, 


203 


CHAPTER XVI. 


IN LONDON. 


HE full particulars of her father's outlawry 



-i- were told to Githa as soon as she reached 
home, and likewise that he was by no means 
happy at the holy isle, although his wife and 
daughter were with him. This did not surprise 
Githa, and she resolved to visit them as soon as 
she could. Of her sister Editha nothing had been 
heard lately, for she had married a cheapman, or 
mercer, of London, and greatly offended the 
Lady Godiva, who had intended her favorite 
bower maiden should become a nun. But no 
objections could be made to the marriage, for 
the Londoner was wealthy, and owned a well- 
stocked booth in Mart Lane, and promised to 
build a house for Editha in the country near to 
the fashionable resort of the citizens, the Spring 
of Holywell, and within easy distance of the 
village of Charing. Neither was he within the 
prohibited degrees of relationship, that the 
Church might interpose, as her father declined 
to do, and so the Lady Godiva was obliged to 
give up her bower maiden to become a wife 


204 


Leofwine. 


instead of a votary of the Church, and she had 
gone to live in her fashionable house near Holy- 
well Springs. 

While Githa was talking this over with Al- 
dytha, her mistress, an idea suddenly entered’ 
the mind of the latter to send her bower maiden 
to see her sister, and plead for a reversion of 
her father’s outlawry, and she said abruptly, 
“ Thou couldst go to London, Githa, with a 
proper escort ? ” 

“ Go to London ! ” repeated Githa, with as 
much astonishment as though a journey to the 
moon had been proposed. 

“Yes^ thy father hath forfeited all that he 
possessed for my father and the freedom of 
Wales, therefore I would do what I can to get 
the reversal of his outlawry,” said Aldytha. 

‘‘ And what couldst thou do ? ” asked Githa. 
‘'The foes of thy house are now first in favor 
with the king. Who would present my petition 
to the witan ? ” 

“ Harold, Godwin’s son, would do that, and 
more than that, for my sake,” said the widow in 
a tone of proud exultation. “ He would fain be 
the friend rather than the foe of our house, too,” 
she added. 

Githa glanced at her mistress, and again the 
tell-tale blush mounted to her face. 


In London. 


205 


“ It were well for England if the earl of Mer- 
cia and East Anglia made a lasting friendship 
with the Godwins, I have heard ray father say,” 
remarked Githa. 

But Aldytha would not heed the remark. 

I will talk to my grandam about thy visit 
to Crowland, and then, if thy father wiliest, thou 
shalt go to London, and bear a letter from me 
or my brothers praying the great Earl Harold 
to intercede for thee to his sister, the lady of 
England, who will doubtless present thy peti- 
tion to the king.” 

Githa’s heart bounded with joy at the thought 
of being the messenger of hope to her parents, 
and she was all impatience to set off on her 
journey down the stream that led to the lonely 
little isle where her brother first, and now her 
father, had found a refuge. 

She did not have to wait long, and the grand 
old minster, with its workshops and cottages, 
corn fields and broad pasture lands, was soon 
reached, and she was taken at once to the little 
reed-thatched cottage where her mother and 
father lived. It was the largest and best within 
this sacred realm of St. Guthlac, but, of course, 
very different in its appointments from the old 
homestead where Eric had reigned almost as a 
king among his slaves and dependents. Here 


2o6 


Leofwine. 


he was the dependent — dependent upon the 
charity of the Church for the bread he ate and the 
roof that sheltered him, as well as life and safety, 
and sorely it fretted him to think of this; and a 
weary time his wife often had in consequence. 

His wounds were healing slowly under the 
care of the monks and the nursing of Elswitha, 
and if he would only rest they would soon cease 
to trouble him. But this was just what Eric 
could not do ; nor could he content himself with 
the mere passive work of fishing, as many of 
his neighbors did ; he must be out in the fields 
watching the monks at their work, and learning 
all he could of their method of farming — a 
method that brought more plentiful harvests, 
and better quality of grain, than any others in 
the Danelagh. 

He was away in the fields upon this business 
when Githa arrived, and found her mother in 
tears. “ Mother ! mother ! ” exclaimed Githa, 
rushing into her arms, and for a few minutes 
their tears were mingled as they were clasped 
in a loving embrace. 

“ Let me look at thee, my child, my Githa, 
the first of m}^ flock to come back to — to — 
and there she stopped. 

“ To thee and home,” said the girl, for where 
thou art is ever home.” 


In London. 


207 


I wish thy father could think so,” said Els- 
witha. Here under the shadow of St. Guth- 
lac’s holy house, where my Leofwine prayed and 
fasted, I would fain dwell until the end of my 
days ; nor would it trouble me that my neigh- 
bor was a robber and a murderer, whose life was 
justly forfeited for his crimes ; but thy father 
cannot think thus. He holds, himself aloof from 
those whom he knows to have been thieves and 
housebreakers when they were in the world, and 
now he has learned some new things about cul- 
tivating the fields he is growing more restless 
than ever, and says he will return to the Dane- 
lagh and till his fields, as the monks do here.” 

“ Nay, nay, my mother ! but Gurth hath told 
me of the coming of evil men out of Northum- 
bria to our Danelagh, therefore, until I can go 
to London and obtain the reversal of the out- 
lawry, thou must abide here.” 

Elswitha held up her hands. ‘‘ Thou wouldst 
go to London, child } Nay, nay, but thou hast 
only now returned from Wales ! ” 

“ But London is not farther than Wales, 
and I must even go, for my mistress doth send 
me.” 

‘‘ The saints protect thee along that fearsome 
road — tlie Watling-street ! I have heard thy 
father talk of terrible sights and sounds he hath 


208 


Leofwine. 


met with while journeying to the witan. I 
think he said that dragons came forth to slay all 
passengers at certain seasons of the year/’ 

Githa smiled at her mother’s fears. She had 
often heard of these same dragons in various 
parts of the country, but having traveled a 
good deal both in England and Wales, and 
never yet having, met with any herself, she be- 
gan now to doubt their existence. To shake 
her mother’s belief in them, however, would, 
she knew, be impossible, and so she merely said, 
“This is not the season for dragons, mother, 
and they will let me pass in safety even as they 
did Editha.” 

“Thou wilt go to Editha and abide with her 
while thou art in London ; she will make thee 
welcome, and so will Clapa, her husband, the 
worthy cheapman of Mart Lane.” 

“He is worthy and wealthy too, I have 
heard,” said Githa. 

“ He is a citizen of London, the richest city 
in the world,” said Elswitha. “ It was like a 
tale of the old heroes and gods who lived in 
palaces of gold, to hear him tell of the riches 
and largesse that were shown to Duke William 
of Normandy when he came some years ago to 
visit King Edward. He says he knows the 
duke envied the citizens their wealth.” 


In London, 


209 


Elswitha would have gone on talking of 
Editha and her house by the Holywell, but they 
were interrupted by the entrance of Eric, who 
was so overjoyed at the sight of Githa, and the 
hope she brought of his being able to return in 
safety to the outer world, that his wife feared 
at last he would be ill from the effects of Githa’s 
visit. He would not hear of her speedy return 
to Bourne until he was made to comprehend 
that she was to go to London from thence to 
try and obtain a reversal of his outlawry, when 
he gave a rather reluctant consent for her return 
the next day. 

This visit to Crowland, and her father’s evi- 
dent dislike to the life he was compelled to lead 
there, made her more anxious than ever to set 
off on the journey to London without delay; and 
the two young earls, having written a letter to 
Harold, at their sister’s request, Githa was soon 
on her way to London, hoping to gain a speedy 
audience of the king, to plead for her father’s 
life and liberty. Mart Lane was Githa’s first 
destination, for it was thought that her brother- 
in-law, being a citizen, could tell her when and 
where she would be likely to see the Earl 
Harold better than Aldytha, who only knew 
that he lodged in London near the king’s new 
palace. 


210 


Leofwine. 


Githa was somewhat disappointed when she 
saw the streets of London were so dark, nar- 
row, and winding, and the houses built mainly 
of wood, like their own Danelagh village. The 
citizens were, however, a very pious people she 
felt well assured, for tall crosses or images of 
the saints and virgin were set up wherever two 
ways crossed, and at these Githa was careful 
to bow in humble reverence, beseeching saint 
or virgin to prosper her undertaking, and grant 
her father speedy liberty. In spite of these 
frequent hinderances, the busy lane, with its row 
of booths, where cheapmen displayed their wares, 
was reached by Githa and her escort, and Clapa 
gave her a hearty welcome when he heard that 
she was his Edithas sister. 

Thou hast come in time to see a brave sight, 
too, child. I was even now bidding my 'pren- 
tice lads give good heed to the bargaining, for I 
would not miss seeing Earl Harold set forth on 
his journey for — ” 

“Earl Harold!" repeated Githa, a strange 
tremor suddenly seizing her in her fear lest she 
had arrived too late. But before she could say 
any more, or Clapa could notice her agitation, a 
dull roar sounded through the streets, and the 
mercer exclaimed, “ Hark to that shout ! Only 
one man in England could win that from the 


In London. 


2II 


throats and hearts of Englishmen — Harold, the 
brave, honest earl, who is king of the English this 
day, although Edward still sits on the throne.” 

Earl Harold !” again repeated Githa. 

‘‘Yes, he sets forth this day, with hawk and 
falcon, and a brave company, to visit the count 
of the Normans, and claim his young brother 
and nephew, who were sent as hostages to the 
Court of Rouen for the good faith of the house 
of Godiva, with that of all Normans still resid- 
ing in England, after the king had revoked the 
act of outlawry against them.” 

“ Earl Harold was once an outlaw himself,” 
interrupted Githa. 

“ Yes, he and all his family, and — ” 

“ And my father is an outlaw this day, and 
only Earl Harold can reverse it,” gasped Githa. 

The mercer looked down at her in a sort of 
bewildered pity. “ Poor child, thou art too late 
to see the earl,” he said at length, “ for he hath 
even now set forth from his mansion near the 
Fleet, beyond the Ludgate, and — ” 

“ But could we not see him even now } Hark ! 
the people are shouting. O surely we can meet 
them !” she added as she drew near the entrance 
of the booth. 

The mercer hastened to complete his ar- 
rangements with the two young men who assist- 


212 


Leofwine. 


ed him in his business, and then taking Githa s 
hand, he led her through the crowd that now 
filled the narrow, tortuous streets, each one 
pushing in the same direction toward the great 
bridge that joined London to the rural suburb 
of Southwick. The pushing and jostling Githa 
cared little for, in her anxiety to reach the bridge 
before the earl’s train had passed ; but the far- 
ther they went the denser grew the crowd, until 
at length their further progress was stopped by 
the overturning of a wagon, which completely 
blocked up the entrance to the street they were 
in*. The crowd grumbled and fretted a few 
minutes, and then turned back ; but the time 
thus lost cost them their look at the earl’s brave 
company, and Githa her chance of presenting 
her letter. 

Clapa tried to comfort her with the assurance 
of Harold’s speedy return. He is the king’s 
most trusty counselor and best-beloved friend, 
and it is said he hath promised to name him as his 
successor to the witan. Our monk-king knows 
that the nation would choose Harold above all 
men,” went on the mercer ; but looking down, he 
saw that Githa was paying little heed to his words 
or to any of the gay sights about her. “ Thou 
wouldst rather hear of Editha now, I trow, so I 
will take thee to her with all speed, for the sight 


In London. 


213 

of her will be much better than the hearing, I 
doubt not.” 

“ Is it far } ” asked Githa, beginning to feel 
tired for the first time since she had left Bourne. 

‘‘ It is but a little way through the fields after 
we pass through the Ludgate. Seest thou the 
church yonder. That is St. Paul’s, and these 
ruins that still stand about it are the remains of 
a famous temple that once stood here.” 

Githa glanced at the sculptured marble frag- 
ments of shafts and capitals that lay scattered 
near, and then at the roughly built wooden 
church, and she said, “ These paynim gods had 
better temples than we can build.” 

'‘They were a strange, wise people, these 
Romans, even as they are still. They ever 
loved and gained power, I hear, and love it still, 
though I doubt whether Dane or Saxon ever 
submitted to their rule.” 

" The holy father dwelleth at Rome,” sug- 
gested Githa. 

" True, my child, and we give him all rever- 
ence as the great bishop and vicar of Christ ; 
but our Church is free, and we are not bound to 
obey all the commands of even the pope. It 
suits not our English character to be thus ruled 
by a foreign priest,” added the mercer. 

Githa felt afraid to enter into such a question 


214 


Leofwine. 


as this. To her the lord pope was as great 
as God himself, and to question the rights and 
authority of the one was tantamount to ques- 
tioning those of the other. 

The citizen, however, was not troubled with 
such scruples, and he went on : There is our 
Earl Harold ; now all the world knows he is de- 
sirous of marrying Edith, but she is within the 
degrees of relationship forbidden by the Church, 
and so only the pope can sanction this marriage. 
Now what can the pope know about this busi- 
ness, dwelling as he doth at Rome. Therefore, 
I say, let some English prelate have the power 
to decide in such matters, or else do not allow 
the Church the power to forbid it.’’ 

Githa shuddered at the thought of curtailing 
the power of the Church, and began to think the 
people of London could not be so pious after all 
if they talked as her brother-in-law did of the 
pope and the Church. Altogether he must be 
a dangerous person, she thought, and she won- 
dered whether Editha had given up her belief in 
the Church and saints, and her attendance at 
mass and confession. 

The crowd was returning now, some to their 
business, and some to finish the day at the bull 
and bear baiting rings, while many took the 
same road as Githa and Clapa — through the 


In London. 


215 


city to the little bridge that crossed the Fleet, 
and thence out on the smooth sands of the 
Strand, until they turned into the fields and 
pastures on the right, where here and there a 
country house could be seen, or rood and image, 
to mark the way. 

There was no crowding or bustling when 
they had reached thus far, for some had wan- 
dered down to the river’s edge, and others had 
gone to the vineyards to ascertain what the 
prospect of this year’s vine harvest was likely 
to prove, but the more wealthy and fashionable 
took their way to the Holywell Spring. Githa, 
however, was only anxious to reach her sister’s 

house.” 

. 14 


2I6 


Leofwine. 


CHAPTER XVII. 


A MERCHANT’S HOUSEHOLD OF OLDEN TIME. 



ITHA would hardly have recognized the 


fashionably-dressed lady who met them 
in the hall as her sister Editha, for all trace of 
the homespun Saxon dress was gone, and she 
wore a Norman coiffure and bodice, embroid- 
ered almost as richly as a bishop’s cape ; and 
even her very language seemed altered, for she 
used many words in speaking to her husband 
that Githa had never heard before. 

Thy sister is growing quite a fashionable lady 
now she hath learned the Norman tongue a lit- 
tle,” said Clapa, laughing at Githa’s perplexity. 

Githa hardly knew whether to laugh or cry 
over the transformation that seemed to have 
been wrought in Editha ; but, as the first shy- 
ness wore off between the sisters, the great 
contrasts between them in the matter of 
dress, and their use of even the Saxon tongue, 
seemed, to pass away ; and, when they were at 
last alone, and Editha had indulged in a good 
cry over the story of her father’s troubles, Githa 
was ready to forgive even her mincing way of 


A Merchant's Household. 217 

speaking, and hastened to assure her that the 
family troubles would soon be at an end if she 
could present her letter to Earl Harold. 

Then thou must stay here until he returns 
from Normandy,” said Editha. 

But Githa shook her head. “ Thou dost for- 
get that I am bower maiden to Aldytha, the 
queen,” she said. 

Editha smiled at the proud title. “ Poor queen ! 
poor Aldytha ! She had better have been wife 
to our brave Earl Harold,” she said. 

Githa nodded her head. She had her own 
thoughts about that matter, and said : It may 
be she will yet honor Harold by considering his 
suit. She is very beautiful still.” 

Not so beautiful as Edith, the fair, the 
gentle girl who is even now betrothed to our 
earl,” hastily interrupted Editha. 

But — but I thought the Church forbade these 
two to wed ; how, then, can they be betrothed ?” 
asked Githa. 

The lord pope can grant a dispensation 
even as he did to William, count of the Nor- 
mans ; but our king favors not this match, and 
would fain have Edith enter the convent ; and 
it is said that Earl Harold is no favorite with 
the holy father, or the Church either, and dare 
not ask this thing himself.” 


2I8 


Leofwine. 


And yet he doth still hope to — ” 

“ Seest thou not that our king is old and 
childless, and cannot live long ? If Harold suc- 
ceeds him he can ask this better as the king of 
England ; or, if the young Atheling be crowned, 
who but Harold can help him to govern, and 
then it were easy to secure his favor with the 
pope/’ 

Thou art well learned in Earl Harold’s af- 
fairs,” said Githa, as her sister concluded. 

Earl Harold’s affairs are England’s affairs, 
sister mine, and he doth not seek to hide them. 
It is whispered that the old earl, his father, 
would have him choose our Aldytha, that the 
two great families of Mercia and Godwin might 
be united, for by this means only could En- 
gland hope to oppose any foreign foe — by the 
changing of foes into friends, who would thus 
lead all England as one man.” 

Githa, however, did not take the same inter- 
est in these matters that her sister did. ‘‘ I 
can only help feeble folk and comfort little chil- 
dren,” she said. ‘‘lam not fit for a fashionable 
lady.” 

“ But thou art proud to be bower maiden to 
a queen ! ” retorted Editha. 

Githa colored, but answered quickly, “ I am 
bower maiden to Aldytha, the widow, and in 


A Merchant's Household. 219 

her service will I remain. Queen she will ever 
be to me, for she hath been companion, sister, 
and friend, as well as mistress, and I must re- 
turn to her now that Earl Harold hath gone to 
Normandy.” 

Nay, but it were better for thee to tarry 
here awhile until thou dost know her will con- 
cerning this matter. A messenger can go to 
Bourne and carry letters to thy lady and our 
father, telling them how it hath befallen thee, 
and how Earl Harold will soon cross the sea 
again and be at London.” 

‘‘ Nay, but I would fain return with the liths- 
men, who are resting in London ere they begin 
their journey again,” pleaded Githa. 

‘‘ And I would fain keep thee with me for 
awhile. Thou must see the new minster our 
king is building close to his palace in the Isle 
of Thorney. It is the wonder of all beholders, 
for no building so grand hath been seen in En- 
gland before, for the builders are a new order 
of men called free-masons, and have learned 
their art beyond the seas.” 

The temples of the paynim gods must have 
been grand, Editha, for near the Church of 
St. Paul there lieth some of the ruins of one — 
the temple of Diana, I think, Clapa called it.” 

*‘Yes, and one to Apollo stood where our 


220 


Leofwine. 


king hath builded his new minster ; but they 
could not have been so grand as this will be, or 
so holy, for there are arms and legs of saints, 
and garments of apostles — quite a treasury of 
holy relics to be deposited within its walls. 
Githa, thou must stay awhile and see this new 
minster in the west — in the Isle of Thorney — 
we call it the west, because the great Church 
of St. Paul is the minster of the east,’' added 
Editha. 

But it was not until Clapa had promised to 
send a messenger who would run all the way to 
Bourne, tarry but a short time there, and return 
at the same pace, that Githa could be persuaded 
to remain. 

After the departure of the messenger with her 
letters, which Clapa wrote for her, she was able 
to take more interest in the affairs of her sister’s 
household. Editha learned the language used 
at Court, and dressed in the same style as her 
neighbors, to please her husband ; but she was 
none the less careful to see that her maidens 
were never idle, or that the old rushes were re- 
moved from her floors before the new ones were 
laid down. 

The wealth and industry of her sister’s house- 
hold surprised Githa. The ‘‘ bower,” or sitting 
room specially set apart for Editha and her 


A Me}'cbant's Household. 


221 


maids, was draped with silken hangings, a couch 
stood on one side, with pillows richly embroid- 
ered, and on a sideboard were horns tipped with 
silver, and a psalter with clasps of gold. Oppo- 
site to this was a long seat, or form, on which sat 
six young girls, each with a spindle and distaff, 
which they handled so deftly that the work of 
spinning seemed a pleasure rather than a toil. 

'‘Weave well, heed well,” said Editha, as she 
went to look over their work and exchange a 
few pleasant word^ with each. 

“ What are they weaving ? ” asked Githa, as 
the sisters stood at a distant window looking 
out upon fields and pasture land. 

"A piece of linen for the emperor’s cheapman, 
who hath done some business for Clapa of late.” 

" And this is for a gift — is he a poor man ? ” 
asked Githa. 

Editha laughed as she kissed her sister’s 
broad forehead : " Thou hast little knowledge of 
the world yet, little one,” she said, " or thou 
wouldst know that all women cannot be saints, 
and make clothes only to give to the poor, as 
our Lady Godiva doth. I had sorne thoughts 
that were hard and unjust about this other way 
of disposing of our spinning ; but my husband 
hath taught me many things, and this among 
the rest, that it is good to work for the common 


222 


Leofwine. 


wealth and good of all, as well as to give to the 
poor.” 

But Githa shook her head : ‘‘ I am a simple, 
feckless maiden,” she said, ‘‘ and conceive not 
thy meaning.” 

“ Well, I will try to tell thee what Clapa told 
me. He is a citizen of London, and whatever 
adds to his wealth increases that of the city 
and the world, for he payeth duties and imposts, 
and I know not what, which goes to the king’s 
treasury for making defenses against the in- 
roads of the sea, or any foreign foe landing on 
our shores.” 

“ I have heard my father say that the king 
spent more in the purchase of relics than the 
building of defenses,” interrupted Githa. 

‘‘ And are they not all powerful defenses ? ” 
exclaimed Editha. Speak not against the 
virtue of holy relics before Clapa,” she added, 

for on this alone do we differ ; he is so daring 
as to think he knows better about some things 
than holy mother Church.” 

My father, too, would have some things al- 
tered if he could,” said Githa. 

The saints be praised, that the Church is so 
powerful that none d^re question her authority 
openly. But now let me tell thee about this 
linen. We have enough and tq spare for Qur 


A Merchants Household, 223 

own wants, and a store made ready for the poor 
when winter comes, and now my maids and I 
spin and embroider just the same, and my hus- 
band gaineth much wealth by our handiwork, 
for the Saracen merchants gladly buy Saxon 
embroidery for the markets of Spain and the 
emperor’s cheapmen. German merchants, some 
call them, will buy linen and woolen.” 

Githa went with her sister to the Isle of 
Thorney to see the new minster, and walking 
in the palace garden she caught a glimpse 
of the lady of England. Calm and peaceful 
was the look on her placid face, and Githa 
whispered to her sister, Is she quite happy, 
think you } ” 

'' Happy ! Yes ; she, like the saint-king her 
husband, dwelleth more in heaven than on 
earth,” answered Editha. 

Githa sighed. ‘‘ I wish she were more like 
us, Editha, and I would bring my letter with 
me, and tarry here again to-morrow and present 
it to her, instead of waiting for Earl Harold to 
return ; but if, as thou sayest, she is so far above 
us, she hath forgotten that her father was once 
an outlaw, or it may be she did not feel so sad 
about it as we poor feeble folk do.” 

Editha shook her head. She could not en- 
lighten her sister about this, and certainly would 


224 


Leofwine. 


not encourage her in the daring project of pre- 
senting her letter herself to the queen. She 
was the greatest lady in England, and holy as 
the king himself, and every-body knew he was 
pre-eminent as a saint if not as a king, and so 
Githa felt half ashamed of even thinking of such 
a daring deed ; only her thoughts would wander 
back to the “ isle of peace,” where her father 
was a prisoner, and then across the seas, to 
wonder when Earl Harold would set sail for 
London again. 

The messenger sent to Bourne got back to 
London more speedily than Githa expected, 
bringing letters from her father and her mistress, 
each commanding her to stay in London until 
the earl’s return, and then obtain the pardon as 
quickly as she could. 

A little later and the mercer came home from 
the city with the direful news that the earl was 
a prisoner in Normandy — his vessel had been 
wrecked in a storm, and he cast ashore on the 
coast, as any worthless piece of ‘‘flotsam” 
might be. Valuable, as “jetsam,” would he 
be to his captors, for a heavy ransom would be 
demanded ; but already the loyal citizens of 
London had begun to talk of making this mat- 
ter their own, and sending the needful ransom 
by the hands of trusty messengers. 


A Merchant's Household. 225 

A few days later came the news that Count 
William had ransomed him, or procured his re- 
lease, and for one day, at least, the count was 
most popular with the citizens of London, 
and preparations were commenced to welcome 
Harold on his return ; and many besides Githa 
waited with eager anxiety now for news of his 
sailing from the port of Normandy. 

But day after day passed, and though cheap- 
men and merchants brought reports of the gay 
doings in Rouen in honor of Earl Harold, not 
a whisper as to the time of his return came from 
across the sea. 

Clapa grew impatient and irritable over this 
at last — almost as impatient as Githa herself, 
who still lingered an unwilling guest in her sis- 
ter’s house, while her heart was at Crowland, 
full of anxiety lest her father, losing all his small 
store of patience, should leave the protection of 
the Church, and returning to the Danelagh, be 
slain by some of the Northumbrian strangers 
who had settled there. 

So Githa and Clapa often sat talking of the 
unaccountable delay in the earl’s return, until at 
length Clapa announced his intention of going 
to Normandy himself 

“ Nay, nay,” said Editha ; “ the saints pre- 
serve thee from such folly as going to search 


226 


Leofwine. 


for the brave earl when thou knowest'he is well 
and happy.” 

Nay, I know not that, Editha ; but I know 
that all Normans are fair of speech but foul of 
deed, and crafty of heart, and our honest earl 
hath little guile himself, and therefore will not 
suspect it of others.” 

'' And so thou, the cheapman of Mark Lane, 
wilt go warn the great earl ! Go to, Clapa, thou 
art mad,” said Editha, laughing. 

'‘Nay, nay, thinkest thou I am as witless as 
that ? It is business that calleth me to Rouen 
just now. I would fain see some of these 
Flemish artisans for myself, and agree with 
them concerning certain pieces of their handi- 
craft that have been sent to our mart of London. 

Editha saw through this business excuse, 
but, like a wise woman, gave up further opposi- 
tion to her husband’s wishes, and set herself to 
prepare for his journey, begging him not to stay 
long in Normandy, as she should be very anx- 
ious during his absence. 

" Githa will abide with thee until my return ; 
and that I will do this with all possible speed, 
when my business is completed, thou mayest 
feel well assured.” 

Editha had little fear for her husband’s safety 
at this season, and she and Githa amused them- 


A Merchant" s Honsehold. 227 

selves, to while away the time until his return, 
by visiting all the great sights in and around 
London. 

Clapa was not away long, but he came back 
very gloomy and sad. What is it } ” asked 
Editha ; '' hath thy business fared ill } or — ” 
Nay, but our earl hath been betrayed by the 
crafty Norman,” interrupted Clapa. 

'' Betrayed ? Count William hath not — ” 
Listen, Editha. What Count William hath 
done must remain a secret as yet. Few hath 
heard of the foul deed even in Rouen, and but 
for one of the earl’s lithsmen I should not have 
heard it.” 

‘^Then Harold is not — ” 

“ Harold is well and anxious to return, and 
doubtless will be allowed to do so soon. He 
hath been detained against his will at the Nor- 
man Court, but will return ere long. Where 
is Githa ? ” he asked ; “ she hath not returned 
to Bourne, surely.” 

“ Nay, she hath gone with two of the maids 
to the Isle of Thorney, for she greatly loveth to 
gaze at the new west minster. Come, tell me 
what this secret about the earl is ere she re- 
turns,” said Editha, coaxingly. 

But her husband shook his head. If this 
were hinted abroad it will do much evil ; but if 


228 


Leofwine. 


it be kept secret, I trust that our earl, with the 
help of our bishop, Aired, will see some way 
out of the difficulty/' 

Of course, Editha only felt more curious to 
hear about this secret now, and she coaxed and 
pleaded and promised never to divulge it to any 
other, until at last her husband yielded, and 
taking her into a little inner room and closing 
the door, he whispered, Harold hath promised 
to support Duke William’s claim to the throne 
of England. A promise extorted from a prisoner 
in such cases might be broken ; but Harold was 
asked to lay his hand upon the altar when he 
took oath, and beneath the cloth was a box of 
relics, so that the Church is now committed to 
the matter.” 


At the Gate of Jerusalem. 


229 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

AT THE GATE OF JERUSALEM. 

O NCE more we return to Leofwine, who, 
after weeks of weary travel, came within 
sight of the sacred mountain that overlooked 
Jerusalem. Faint, weary, travel-stained and 
footsore, he pressed on more eagerly, anxious to 
reach the summit and gaze on the spot held 
sacred by all nations of the world. Even these 
paynim Saracens and Turks, who worshiped 
the false prophet Mohammed, held this city of 
Jerusalem in veneration he had heard, and built 
one of their chief mosques, or temples, here, on 
that account. 

Leofwine had learned many things besides 
this during his travels. He had peeped into 
the churches at Constantinople, and, guarded by 
his little leaden image, had listened to the serv- 
ice, and found it similar in many points to that 
of the Romish Church, only there were no 
images to be seen in these Greek churches, 
but the walls were painted, or hung with pict- 
ures illustrative of some parable, or miracle, or 
Scripture incident ; and in the older ones were 


230 


Leofwine. 


curious devices of a cross within a circle, or two 
fishes lying side by side, and he was told that 
this was the ancient mode of representing 
the Lord Christ as the Saviour of men ; but in 
all these old forms there seemed to be no men- 
tion of saints or virgins, only of the Lord Christ ; 
and his death and resurrection to eternal life 
seemed presented for man’s contemplation. 
These had been painted, too, long before the 
separation of the Roman and Greek Churches, 
and had been the common mode of communi- 
cation between Christians of all countries at 
the time of persecution. 

So Leofwine had gathered food for thought, 
and perplexity too, during his journeyings ; and 
more doubts of the perfect honesty and truth- 
fulness of his beloved Church now agitated his 
mind. How mistaken Lanfranc and other 
scholars of Europe were, too, in supposing that 
these unknown countries were savage and un- 
civilized. Why, Constantinople was richer in 
libraries and scholars — philosophers, mathema- 
ticians, and physicians — than all Europe put to- 
gether, and might well look upon him and all 
Christian pilgrims from the west as savage 
barbarians. 

All this passed through Leofwine’s mind as 
he toiled up the steep and stony track. With a 


At the Gate of Jemsalem, 231 

scorching sun above, and lofty ranges of black, 
barren mountains, dark ravines, and deeper 
gorges frequently recurring, it was certainly no 
wonder that the weary pilgrim soon sank down 
exhausted by fatigue. 

But Leofwine had provided for this last stage 
of his toilsome journey, and he pulled out of his 
wallet some locusts and wild honey, and a tiny 
skin of water, and after this frugal meal he once 
more rose to his feet, and picking up his staff, 
toiled on up the steep ascent. 

The summit was reached at last — a small, 
rugged table-land strewn with loose stones ; but 
there was no spring of cooling water trickling 
over the heated rocks, no herbage, no stir of 
animal or insect life ; but Leofwine soon for- 
got the silent desolation by which he was sur- 
rounded, for at last his eyes rested on earth’s 
•most sacred spot. The towers, domes, and 
minarets of Jerusalem were plainly visible on 
the opposite side of the valley. 

Before commencing the descent Leofwine 
kneeled down to thank God for his mercy, for 
surely now in a few hours his mind would be 
cleared of all its doubts. Kneeling at the sacred 
sepulcher where Christ had lain, the mists of 
earth would, he fondly thought, roll off his soul 

like clouds from the mountain top at the rising 
15 


232 


Leofwine. 


of the sun, and his faith would be clear, simple, 
and unquestioning in the Church of his fathers, 
nnd he would be able to resign his judgment 
without question to her guidance. 

A little way from the top of the mount a few 
straggling olive-trees appeared, and then more, 
until Leofwine entered a perfect grove, whose 
shade was most welcome to the tired pilgrim. 
He would fain have sat down here to rest, but 
he was anxious to reach the city gates before 
sunset, for he had been told that the last har- 
assing regulation made by its Arab conquerors 
was to refuse admittance to all Christian pil- 
grims after their sunset call to prayers. Jews 
fared little better in this respect, but Leofwine 
felt no pity for them. They were hated and 
despised by all nations and classes, and the 
young monk was no exception to the rule, and 
to have been shut out with a party of Jews 
would only have increased his vexation. 

By dint of exerting all his strength, however, 
he reached the city gates half an hour before 
sunset, but was not permitted to enter unques- 
tioned by the dark-visaged, white-turbaned, 
fierce-looking sentind. His name, occupa- 
tion, and country were asked, and then he was 
roughly pushed aside to allow a gayly-dressed 
party of Saracens to enter. 


233 


At the Gate of yeriisalcm. 

Only a miserable dog of a Christian ! '' ex- 
claimed one in a tone of contempt, and he drew 
aside his richly embroidered robe, lest it should 
be contaminated by touching the monk’s serge 
frock. 

The hot blood mounted to Leofwine’s pale 
face as he encountered the stare of each of these 
haughty Arabs, but he drew his cowl closer, 
that his emotion might not be seen, and did not 
venture to step forward again until they had all 
passed through the gate. 

Then, as the last horse cantered away into 
the narrow street, he once more presented him- 
self and attempted to enter. Again he was 
pushed back. This time a group of miserable 
beggars had drawn near, and the guard turned 
to them, while they bent scowling looks on the 
Christian monk who had dared to step before 
them. 

“The insolence of these Christian dogs, to 
put themselves before true believers ! ” ex- 
claimed one, spitting at Leofwine as he spoke. 

He made no reply, but stood quietly aside 
until they had passed in, and took care to look 
first before presenting himself to the guard. 
Yes, a party of country people, with baskets 
of olives and grapes, were approaching, and so 
Leofwine waited until they entered, and then 


234 


Leofwine. 


once more presented himself to answer the in- 
terrupted questions. But before the first had 
been asked this time, the sun went down behind 
the crest of the opposite mountain, while clear 
as silver bells rang the cry of the muezzins 
from the minarets of the mosques, “ Allah ak- 
bar ! Allah akbar ! ” It was the sunset call to 
prayers, and the sentinel pushed Leofwine back 
and shut the gate. 

There was no admission for him that night, 
and no shelter from the heavy night dews near 
at hand, and he was weary, hungry, and penni- 
less. No wonder the tears sprang to his eyes, 
and he wished some Christian warriors could 
come hither and rescue the sacred city from 
paynim hands,’ or check their cruel pride, at 
least. 

He sat down to rest a few paces off, and soon 
saw that other passengers were making their 
way to the city gate. Soon a little crowd were 
collected near, and Leofwine rose and joined 
them. But each in turn drew aside in angry 
scorn as he approached ; but still, when the gate 
was again thrown open he ventured to draw 
near, encouraged by seeing that the sentinel had 
been changed. But he was treated as roughly 
by this one, as he had been by the other. 

‘‘Too late,” said the man sternly. 


At the Gate of Jerusalem, 


23s 


Nay, but I was here half an hour before 
sunset,’' protested Leofwine. “ I did but stand 
aside for thine own people to pass in before 
me.” 

And were it meet, thinkest thou, that thou 
shouldst pollute the dust upon which the faith- 
ful walk, by stepping in before them ^ ” asked a 
man who was loitering near. 

Leofwine did not answer, but again appealed 
to the guard. I am poor and friendless, and 
have been sick,” he explained. 

‘‘ Bring back the sun to this side of yonder 
mountain, and thou mayest enter,” said the 
guard loftily, and, without bestowing further 
notice upon Leofwine, he drew forth his cimi- 
ter, as if to test the keenness of its edge, but in 
reality as a warning to the young monk not to 
expect any mercy at his hands. 

Leofwine was not likely to do this. He had 
seen and heard too much already of these Sara- 
cen conquerors to indulge such a futile expecta- 
tion ; for the hatred they showed to all who re- 
fused to embrace the religion of Mohammed was 
only equaled by their own devotion to it, espe- 
cially in the command given by their prophet to 
kill all men and destroy all nations who refused 
to embrace his doctrines. The Saracens were 
but a few disunited tribes of Arabia when this 


236 


Leofwine. 


command was given ; but during the four hun- 
dred years that had elapsed since — so well had 
it suited their natural fierce, warlike characters 
— that their sword had desolated and brought 
into subjection the whole of Syria, a great part 
of Egypt, Persia, and Arabia, and already several 
attacks had been made upon Constantinople 
and Italy. Spain had long since yielded to their 
arms, and that these fierce warriors would event- 
ually overrun the whole of Europe, Leofwine, 
as well as many others, greatly feared. 

They were certainly not the savages he had 
once supposed them to be, for the greatest as- 
tronomers of the age were to be found among 
them, and they were as indefatigable in their 
scientific researches as in^war. Their archi- 
tecture, too, totally unlike any thing he had seen 
in Normandy or Italy, was of so high an order 
as to be almost a miracle of art to Leofwine, 
and he could only sigh despairingly as he 
looked back at the turbaned guard at the gate 
of Jerusalem, and thought of the power of this 
strange people, and their implacable hatred of 
all Christians, which it is only fair to say was 
fully reciprocated by those who professed to 
follow a Master who had come to proclaim 
peace and good-will toward men, instead of the 
sword, as Mohammed had done. 


At the Gate of yenisalem. 237 

To find a shelter for the night, except in 
some cavern that might be the home and hid- 
ing-place of a band of robbers, was not so easy, 
‘for all the vineyards and olive gardens on the 
slopes of the neighboring hills were held by the 
race of the conquerors, or those upon whom 
they had forced their religion, so that they 
were not likely to harbor a Christian monk 
under their roof. It might be that there was a 
monastery in the neighborhood, but he was too 
tired to go in search of it now, and, slowly re- 
tracing his steps to the valley again, he at last 
found a sheltered nook where he would be 
protected from the heavy night dews, and wrap- 
ping his cloak closely about him, he lay down 
and was soon fast asleep. 

The sun was gilding the tops of the minarets of 
the mosque in the city, and faintly on the morn- 
ing breeze was borne the cry, “ Come to prayers ! 
come to prayers ! ” and Leofwine knew that on 
the conclusion of this sunrise service he would 
be permitted to enter the city. So he rose at 
once, prostrated himself before the virgin, and 
went through the accustomed forms of prayer ; 
for, as far as was possible, he still observed the 
canonical hour^, as appointed by his order. 

He had just concluded with the usual genu- 
flexions and crossings, when an old monk of a 


238 


Leofwine. 


neighboring monastery laid his hand upon his 
shoulder. “Wherefore didst thou not lodge 
with us last night, instead of incurring the dan- 
ger of being murdered by robbers or Saracens ^ 
True, thou art of the Roman Church, but Ro- 
man and Greek were one in former days, and 
we, living near this city, have learned to welcome 
all travelers so they be Christians ; so tarry with 
us this day, and rest thyself after thy journey.” 

“ Right gladly will I do this,” answered Leof- 
wine, who felt faint and hungry, and to whom 
the prospect of an early meal was most welcome. 
The old monk had come out in search of some 
herbs, which he needed for a sick brother ; and 
these being found close by, they soon returned 
to the unpretending little row of huts that were 
clustered in a barren nook completely hidden 
from the view of passing travelers, as well as 
from the sight of those dwelling in Jerusalem. 

Leofwine started with surprise as he noticed 
the lowliness of the whole structure, so different 
from the grand establishments at Rome : but the 
reason for this was soon given him. In former 
days Syria could boast of some of the most ex- 
tensive monasteries in the world, but these had 
all been destroyed by the Saracens, and the 
defenseless monks murdered by hundreds and 
thousands, and the same might happen again 


At the Gate of Jerusalem. 239 

if they attempted to build to any extent ; but the 
few huts, such as they had hidden out of sight, 
they were permitted by the conquerors to hold, 
and here they were thankful to remain even 
upon sufferance, helping a few travelers occa- 
sionally, but for the most part passing their 
days in dreamy contemplation. 

The morning meal which Leofwine shared 
with the half dozen brethren who formed this 
colony was almost as simple as his fare had 
been while journeying. A few herbs boiled, 
and a little rye bread, with a draught of wine 
and water, was the best their larders would af- 
ford, and of this they sometimes had but little. 

After breakfast was over and the usual morn- 
ing devotions had been performed, Leofwine 
‘ventured to ask his hosts about his projected 
visit to the sacred tomb, for he began to see 
that his dangers were by no means over, al- 
though the city was reached : and he heard, to 
his dismay, that no monasteries were allowed 
within the walls of the city. Pilgrims usually 
journeyed in large ^companies, and many of them 
being wealthy, they were permitted to find ac- 
commodation within the walls for the sake of the 
profitable trade the merchants and cheapmen 
gained by them. 

A poor monk who could bring none of these 


240 


Leofwine. 


advantages with him might be permitted to 
kneel at the sacred tomb, but would have to 
leave the city almost immediately. Leofwine 
trembled with hope and fear. Could he hope 
that all his doubts and questionings would 
vanish at once 1 and if not, would he be per- 
mitted to return again and again to the holy 
spot, lodging, meanwhile, with these brethren 
in the valley } He asked them this, explaining 
something of the mental disquiet and soul-an- 
guish he had endured ; but he found that they 
comprehended scarcely any thing of the strug- 
gles he had borne. Oriental ascetics might 
plunge into metaphysical difficulties sometimes, 
but the majority of them, like these monks, 
knew nothing of that European energy and rest- 
less research which prevented Leofwine settling* 
down in quiet under the doubts thus begot- 
ten. The quiet, contemplative habits of these 
Asiatics, the result alike of race and climate, 
totally unfitted them for sympathy with such 
questionings as disturbed Leofwine’s soul ; but 
the monks assured him of a hearty welcome to 
their humble hermitage, and for the rest — well, 
he might be permitted to visit frequently the holy 
sepulcher or he might not ; it depended very 
much upon the mood of the hour as to the treat- 
ment he met with from its despotic holders. 


No Peace, 


241 


CHAPTER XIX. 


NO PEACE. 


OP'WINE was admitted within the walls 



J — ' of the sacred city without much opposi- 
tion when he again applied, and once within 
the narrow streets he found little difficulty 
in making his way to the Christian quarter 
of the town, which was, of course, in the 
neighborhood of the sacred tomb. He had 
heard of the failure of the Jewish attempt to 
rebuild their temple under Julian the Apostate, 
but no such failure had attended the Moham- 
medan enterprise to build their temple on the 
old site. The Mosque of Omar, resplendent with 
gold and jewels and the most costly marble and 
mosaic work, now proudly reared its dome where 
the .towers of Solomon’s Temple once stood ; 
while the Jews, all but captives in this city of 
their ancestors, had only a few humble syna- 
gogues in the more private streets of their once 
favored and beloved holy city. Of course neither 
Jews nor Christians were allowed to come even 
near the grand mosque, where the followers 
of Mohammed daily prostrated themselves, and 


242 


Leofwine. 


Leofwine found that even his curious gaze at 
the strange sights that surrounded him was 
likely to bring him into trouble, and so he hur- 
ried on with all speed to the poor quarter of 
the town where a few Christians were allowed 
to live. He was soon taken to the grotto-like 
tomb, the object of all his weary journeyings, 
and in silent rapture fell upon his knees and 
bowed his head to the ground. The stones 
were worn by the knees of the thousands of 
pilgrims, and the young monk noticing this, and 
thinking of the many who had brought their 
burdens hither, felt sure he should find the 
peace he sought, for surely this was the one 
spot of earth on which God would meet man and 
speak peace to his soul. But even while he was 
thinking thus, there rushed unbidden upon his 
memory the story he had read in the convent 
libi'ary at Bee — the story of the woman of Sa- 
maria, and all too vividly came back the words 
of the woman, Ye say that in Jerusalem is the 
place where men ought to worship,'* then came 
the answer, so terrible to Leofwine, kneeling 
now on this sacred spot in Jerusalem : — 

Jesus saith unto her. Woman, believe me, 
the hour cometh, when ye shall neither in this 
mountain, nor yet at Jerusalem, worship the 
Father. . . . But the hour cometh, and now is, 


No Peace, 


243 


when the true worshipers shall worship the 
Father in spirit and in truth ; for the Father 
seeketh such to worship him.” 

Silent, bewildered, almost stunned, Leofwine 
rose from his knees after a few moments, and 
again came the words, “ God is a Spirit : and 
they that worship him must worship him in spirit 
and in truth ; ” and while he still stood vacantly 
looking at the little inclosure, he was pushed 
aside for another devotee to take his place. 

Leofwine did not stay long within the walls of 
the city, but soon returned to the hermitage in 
the valley of Jehoshaphat. Again and again he 
repaired to the sepulcher, and succeeded in nam- 
ing all the causes he had for his soul’s unrest ; but 
the constant coming and going of other pilgrims, 
and the frequent recurrence of the words of the 
Gospel he had formerly read, so disturbed him 
that he entered far less into the spirit of devo- 
tion here than he had done in the monastery, 
or while praying in some lonely glen during his 
journey. He next tried fasting as a prepara- 
tion for his visit, and was so exhausted when he 
reached the city gates to ask for admittance 
that he fell down in a swoon, and was that day 
carried from the tomb insensible, and lodged in 
the house of an Egyptian Christian who lived 


near. 


244 


Leofwine. 


On recovering from the stupor into which he 
had fallen, he found, to his surprise, that his 
frequent visits to the tomb had earned for him 
the reputation of a saint, and nothing he could 
say to the contrary shook this opinion. From 
his host he learned a good deal concerning the 
ancient Church of Alexandria, which had long 
since passed away, as well as that of Carthage, 
for the conquerors were always bent on a 
thorough extermination of Christianity wher- 
ever they went. The only people to find favor, 
or even toleration, with them were their old 
allies, the Abyssinians, and the Abyssinian 
Church still lived, although the mother Church 
of Alexandria had perished. Leofwine found 
that his host was as proud of his nationality as 
an Abyssinian as Count William’s knights were 
of being Normans, and certainly the little col- 
ony of Christians here — men of all nations, 
and members of both the Roman and Greek 
Churches — had much to thank him for in the 
way of winning toleration for them from these 
Mohammedan rulers. 

Leofwine might have prolonged his stay un- 
der the hospitable roof where he had found 
shelter, but as soon as he was able to leave the 
house he went with the few members of his 
^wn Church staying here to their little place of 


No Peace. 


245 


meeting, which, like the Jews’ synagogue, was 
in a very retired chamber, and after return- 
ing thanks to the virgin and saints for his re- 
covery, he prepared to commence his journey 
homeward, or, rather, Rome-ward, for he must 
go there for the copies of several valuable man- 
uscripts he had left in the care of the prior of 
the Benedictine monastery. 

But Leofwine had overrated his strength in 
supposing he was, as yet, fit to travel. Over- 
exertion, poor diet, frequent fasting, and change 
of climate had undermined his strength and 
health, and before the city gates were passed 
his footsteps began to flag. But he persuaded 
himself that he should be better when once 
he had gained the open country, for the neigh- 
borhood where he lived was unhealthy, so he 
pressed on, growing weaker and more faint 
each moment, until at last, when the valley was 
nearly reached, he sank down, almost under the 
feet of a fiery horse. The animal reared back- 
ward instead of trampling on the monk, and 
his rider swore by the beard of the prophet that 
no more monks should be admitted to the city ; 
but Leofwine still lay motionless, unconscious 
of the plunging horse and cursing Saracen, 
who now urged his horse to go over him. But 
before this was done a Christian from the city 




246 


Leofwine. 


came up, and the horseman at once addressed 
him, saying. 

Dog, remove that vile body and throw it 
into the ravine.” Dut he did not wait to see 
that his order was obeyed further than having 
Leofwine dragged out of the road. 

The deliverer recognized Leofwine at once as 
the young stranger who had been so frequent in 
his visits to the sepulcher, and, taking his slight, 
emaciated form on his shoulders, bore him to 
the little hermitage, and committed him to the 
care of the brethren there. 

Weeks and months elapsed before Leofwine 
again put his feet to the ground, and his kind 
hosts had begun to despair of his recovery at 
all, so long did he remain weak and ailing, in 
spite of all the decoctions and strengthening 
potions that were prepared for him, and the 
constant wearing of charms and amulets, war- 
ranted in the name of different saints to be most 
efficacious in curing all manner of diseases. 

At length he was so far recovered as to be 
able to leave the huts, and, walking a short dis- 
tance, sit upon a stone and thus gain a view of 
the valley and the mount of Olives. Here, too, 
he could see the half-ruined porches of the pool 
of Siloam, whose waters were still said to retain 
their healing properties, although they had been 




No Peace. 


247 


tried in vain upon him. He was thinking of 
this as he watched the crowd of poor lame, 
blind, and sick people who lay near the pool — 
thinking over what had lately taken full posses- 
sion of his mind, that he was under the curse 
of God, and therefore his sickness never could 
be healed. Visions of home had haunted him 
during his hours of weakness, and been by 
turns his misery and delight ; but no news had 
come from the far-off Danelagh homestead. 
Although he had sent several letters by the 
hands of returning pilgrims, to be left at the 
monastery of Crowland or the house of Bourne, 
no message frorh thence had broken the silence 
of these dreary months, and now he had fully 
persuaded himself that he was accursed of God, 
and should never see his Danelagh home, or his 
gentle, loving mother again. 

He was pondering gloomily upon this, when 
he was suddenly aroused from his melancholy 
reverie by a voice asking, ^^Art thou sick, 
monk } ” and looking up Leofwine saw, to his 
surprise and dismay, that the speaker was one 
of the enemies of his faith, and even wore a 
green turban, which he knew was a distin- 
guished mark of honor among the Moham- 
medans. Hastily rising, he was about to turn 

away, when the stranger stopped him. 

16 


248 


Leofwine. 


Nay, nay, be not in such haste,” said the 
stranger. '‘I am not a man of blood and war, 
although I do wear a turban. Tell me, now, 
what ails thee ? ” 

In his weakness and indecision Leofwine for- 
got every thing but the command, and related 
all the symptoms of his sickness. 

‘'Thou hast learned somewhat of medicine 
thyself, if I mistake not,” said the stranger, “ or 
thou couldst scarcely explain to me thus accu- 
rately where thy disease lay.” 

*' I did once aspire to be a skillful leech,” an- 
swered Leofwine. 

“ Well, I am accounted one among my peo- 
ple,” said the Saracen, “ and to half-barbarous 
Europe I should, doubtless, seem a miracle 
worker. Let us but conquer Italy, as we have 
Spain, and there will be physicians in Europe 
worthy of the name.” 

But Leofwine shuddered at the thought of 
knowledge being purchased at this price, which 
meant nothing less than the total extermination 
of the Christian religion, to be replaced by Mo- 
hammedanism. He dare not say so much as 
this, though, and so he stood silent before the 
Stranger, who looked at him closely for several 
minutes, and then said abruptly, “ I can cure 
thee if thou dost wish to be cured.” 


No Peace. 


249 


The color went and came in Leofwine’s pale 
face as he heard these words. Doubtless the 
price to be paid for this was, that he should em- 
brace the Moslem faith ; but of what worth was 
his own to him since God had cursed him for 
his doubts and questionings concerning the de- 
crees and acts of the Church ? He was young, 
and life was sweet, and what had his religion 
done for him but made him miserable } But 
the thought of his mother, and how she had 
laid her hands upon him when a little child and 
bidden him never forget to pray to God, came 
to his mind, and he said decidedly, '' I cannot 
abjure my religion even to be cured by thee.” 

The stranger smiled. It is true I like to 
make converts to the only true faith, which is 
Islamism ; but I am a physician, and love to 
cure all the sickness that comes in my way ; 
and, since thou wilt not yield me thy soul, why, 
thou must even take care of that thyself, but let 
me do something to give strength to thy poor 
weak body.” 

But Leofwine was still half afraid of the un- 
wonted kindness. ‘‘ I cannot do or take aught 
that hath the charm of witchcraft upon it, or 
that I may not place this talisman near,” and he 
drew forth his precious little leaden image of 
the virgin as he spoke. 


250 


Leofwine. 


The physician smiled. Thou mayest place 
what thou wiliest near my potion so that thou 
dost duly swallow it, and gather the herbs I 
shall tell thee of to make a pottage, which thou 
must eat of every day while thou art here.’' As 
he was speaking he drew forth from a pouch at 
his side a bottle containing some dark liquid 
and bade Leofwine fetch a cup. 

The monk obeyed, scarce knowing what the 
brethren would think of his thus holding con- 
verse with a paynim ; but feeling all but reck- 
less as to the consequences of his bold act. 
He speedily returned with the cup, into which 
the physician poured several decoctions, which, 
judging by the costly jeweled bottles which 
contained them, must have been very precious. 

There,” he said, as he handed it back to 
Leofwine, ‘‘ say as many prayers as thou wilt to 
thy goddess Mary over that, only duly mix it 
with five times its quantity of water, and take a 
small portion of it twice each day with a good- 
ly allowance of the pottage.” He then told Le- 
ofwine the herbs he must gather, and which, he 
assured him, he would find growing in the val- 
ley or on the lower slopes of the neighboring 
hills. “ There is some charm, though no witch- 
craft, about the gathering of these herbs,” he 
added ; ‘‘ thou must gather them thyself fresh 


No Peace. 


251 


every day between sunrise and sunset, a suffi- 
cient quantity to make a goodly meal ; ” saying 
which, he passed on, leaving Leofwine looking 
into the cup he held in his hand. 

The monks shook their heads very gravely 
when Leofwine related to them his strange ad- 
venture. Doubtless,” remarked one of them, 
‘‘ it is the evil one himself who hath thus come 
forth to deceive thee.” 

But Leofwine had not such an exalted opinion 
of himself as to suppose Satan would think it 
worth his while to come out in person to de- 
ceive him ; but he took the precaution to place 
his little image close to it for some hours before 
taking it, and the brethren recited some prayers 
in Greek, which Leofwine thought were of 
doubtful efficacy, since they were not uttered in 
the language commanded by the Church. This 
question of the use of the Latin tongue had been 
a point of discussion with Leofwine and one of 
the elder brethren. He was accounted a very 
learned man by the rest, and had come from 
one of the chief monasteries in Constantinople, 
and he maintained that, judging from the manu- 
scripts he had read, he was assured that the early 
Church used the language of the country and 
people in which it might be. This had been con- 
firmed by the pilgrims who had come at different 


252 


Leofwine. 


times to the hermitage — pilgrims from China 
and India, as well as Persia, Arabia, and Africa. 
These, all differing somewhat in their creeds 
and Church government, still claimed to be an 
offshoot of the early Greek Church, but spoke, 
and taught, and worshiped in the vernacular 
tongue. The fact of the Greek and Latin 
tongue being both used, too, in the early ages, 
confirmed this statement ; but what was he to 
think of the papal declaration, that the worship 
of God could only be acceptably performed in 
the Latin tongue ? 

But for awhile all these vexing questions were 
forgotten now, for the search for these rare herbs 
occupied nearly all his time, and he soon found 
that his appetite so increased, that to make a 
good meal of them, as his physician had directed, 
he must extend his walks. Whether it was 
this walking, or the appetizing pottage, or the 
strengthening medicine that was affecting his 
case he could not tell, but certainly his health 
was improving, and once more he began to talk 
of journeying toward Rome. 


Rival Popes, 


253 


CHAPTER XX. 


RIVAL POPES. 


-OF WINE’S health improved more rapid- 



-i — ' ]y, even, than was at first anticipated, and 
the journey from Palestine to Rome was per- 
formed with less fatigue than he had endured 
in going. Strange tidings had reached the far- 
off valley of Jehoshaphat during the last few 
weeks of his stay concerning the death of the 
pope, and the election of his successor. 

The cardinal archdeacon, with his compeers 
of the clergy, had proceeded upon the plan ar- 
ranged by the council, and elected Alexander II., 
who had been a pupil of Lanfranc’s, and there- 
fore well suited to carry out the designs of the 
master spirit of Europe, Hildebrand. But the 
German clergy, representing the anti-monastic 
portion of the Church, in the name of the em- 
press regent, Agnes, and her young son, the 
emperor, rejected the choice ; and declaring 
that election illegal, as it had not been submitted 
for the emperor’s approval, proceeded to elect 
Honorius, and send Benzo as his embassador 
to Rome. 


254 


Leofwine. 


There were thus two popes ; each, of course, 
infallible, and each cursing and anathematizing 
the other. But a sight more strange than this 
awaited Leofwine near the imperial city. Once 
more an army lay encamped around its walls ; 
but they were neither heathen Danes nor infidel 
Saracens who had thus succeeded to Goths and 
Huns in the work of destruction, but men of 
the same faith, and each army was urged to do 
its direful work by these rivals, who called them- 
selves the vicegerents of Him who was the 
Prince of peace. Honorius, supported by the 
German army, had succeeded in gaining a foot- 
hold in Rome, and now occupied the castle of 
St. Angus, while Hildebrand and Alexander were 
supported by the Norman army of Tuscany. 

It was with some difficulty that Leofwine 
gained an entrance to the city, which was, of 
course, in great distress and confusion. A party 
of Germans was just then being led to prison, 
and as they went along the monks cursed them 
as the cause of all their trouble and privation. 
The first words that greeted Leofwine, on reach- 
ing his old quarters, was about the scarcity of 
fresh vegetables, 

‘‘ We are keeping more fasts now than the 
Church doth comtpand” said one, '‘and now 
thou hast come.’^ 


Rival Popes, 


255 


“ Nay, nay, but our English brother devoured 
little but the musty manuscripts ; speaking of 
which I must tell thee we have letters for thee, 
brought by the hands of another palmer from 
thy barbarous abbey of Crowland.’' 

Leofwine forgot the scarcity of food, and the 
inhospitable hint of his visit not being welcome, 
in the thought of intelligence from the loved 
ones at home. There were tw’o letters tied 
and sealed separately, but bound together by a 
silken cord. The one was written by a monk 
of Crowland, and gave an account of the family 
troubles and his father’s enforced stay at the 
“ Isle of Peace.” Having hastily read this, he 
turned to the other and saw that it was written 
rather large, and by one who was evidently only 
just learning the clerkly art of writing ; but 
Leofwine almost dropped it in his astonish- 
ment as he read at the bottom, “ Writ by the 
hand of thy sister, Githa.” 

“ Little Githa hath learned this from her mis- 
tress, the Lady Aldytha,” he said, as he began 
to master its contents. • 

It gave him some account of how she had 
gained her father’s pardon through the interces- 
sion of the queen : — 

“ I waited a long time for Earl Harold to re- 
turn ; but at last, seeing the queen walking one 


256 


Leofwine. 


day, I forgot every thing but the gentle love 
that seemed to shine in her face — forgot her 
greatness as the lady of England, and her holi- 
ness as a saint, as all men say she is, and going 
to her I fell on my knees, and then forgot all I 
had meant to say, and could only sob, ‘ O, lady, 
save my father ; he is an outlaw ! ’ 

I was frightened the moment I had said it, and 
thought the queen would surely have me beaten, 
for who was I but a poor bower maiden, who 
had no one to recommend her — not even the 
letter Earl Morcar had written to Harold. But 
instead of being angry, the queen bade me dry 
my tears and be comforted, and then to tell her 
all I wished her to do. Then I told her I had 
a letter at home, and that Editha, who was now 
a great lady of the city of London, could tell 
her all things better than I could. 

‘‘ ' Nay, nay ; but thou shalt tell me thyself,' 
said the queen. ‘ It is a mistake to think that 
only the great and noble can approach me. I 
love to hear the simple petitions of the poor.' 

‘‘ ' And so I told her all that the holy father 
hath told thee in his letter ; and the queen 
promised to speak for me to the king, and soon 
afterward the witan met and pardoned our 
father. There seemed to be no trouble or diffi- 
culty at all about the business after I had spoken 


Rival Popes. 


257 


to the queen ; and when I was thinking of fhis 
afterward, and praying the virgins and saints to 
intercede forme with the Lord Christ, I thought 
how easy it would be if I could — if I dared — pray 
to him as I had spoken to the queen, with- 
out the intercession of our lady or the saints ; 
and then came this thought, that has troubled 
me ever since, what if we have been making 
the mistake about the Lord Christ that Edi- 
tha did about the queen, in supposing that, be- 
cause she was so great and holy she would 
not permit poor people to approach her with 
their own petitions. I have not yet told my 
confessor of this, but I must confess to thee,* 
my brother, that I have loved to dwell upon this 
thought, and it has since seemed easier for me 
to be religious, although I am only a poor bow- 
er maiden ; for if the Lord Christ be as gentle 
and loving as our queen, he might not despise 
me ; and, as Editha says, it would be better for 
the men folks, too, who say that some of the 
saints were not so good as other men, and, 
therefore, are beginning to say that they will 
not pray to any one since they cannot pray to 
God himself, but content themselves with pay- 
ing the Church dues, and going to confession 
cnce or twice a year. Now we, thy sisters, 
thought that thou, being a learned man and a 


258 


Leofwink. 


holy palmer, could tell us whether there was sin 
in this thought of ours, or whether we may take 
the comfort it seemeth to contain.” 

Leofwine laid aside the letter as he read this, 
and his pale face grew ashy in its whiteness as 
he murmured, ‘'A learned man, a holy palm- 
er, that must surely know the truth ! this is what 
Githa, and my mother, and all think of me ; and 
I am — O ! what am I ? ” he gasped, covering 
his face with his hands. 

In a minute or two he raised his face, and 
took up the letter to read - the latter part of it 
again, and then he went to the scriptorium to 
read over again some portion of the Gospels in 
both the Greek and Latin translations. 

If I dared believe that what is said here is 
literally true, then Githa is right, and we have 
been making a mistake all this time in suppos- 
ing we need other intercessors besides the Lord 
Christ,” and, la3/ing aside the Gospels, he took 
out the Epistles of John, and sat pondering and 
reading, to the total forgetfulness of all besides. 

As he laid the manuscript aside, on conclud- 
ing, he struck himself on the breast, saying, 
O fool ! fool ! Knowledge may be power, but 
it is not peace. If little Githa, now, could read 
this, she would believe all it saith without troub- 
ling herself about the canons of the Church, 


Rival Popes. 


2S9 


and what she has directed shall be believed or 
rejected ; but how can I, how dare I, believe ; 
for if Githa and the Scriptures are right, then the 
Church is wrong,” and at the daring thought, 
Leofwine again covered his face and groaned. 

The scriptorium was not used much by the 
brethren of the house, and so Leofwine was left 
in undisturbed possession of it for several hours. 
At length the ringing of the refectory bell re- 
minded him of the demands of his appetite, 
and he hastened to join the brotherhood at once. 
Occupied with the very temperate meal that had 
now taken the place of the usual sumptuous re- 
past, he thought over the strange circumstance 
of Githa learning to write, when it suddenly 
occurred to him that she must also have learned 
to read, and then came the thought that if this 
were so, she had probably read soifie portion of 
the Saxon Scriptures, for the lady Godiva, he 
knew, possessed one or two copies of the Gos- 
pels and Epistles. 

The right to read the Scriptures had been a 
mooted point between the Saxon and Roman 
Church for some years now — the one refusing 
to give up her ancient right to read God’s word 
in the tongue of the people, and the other re- 
fusing to sanction its use in any other than the 
Latin language and by the people at all ; only 


26o 


Leofwine. 


the monks and clergy being allowed this privi- 
lege. Why the use of the Scriptures should 
be thus refused Leofwine could not tell, but he 
knew that this was one of the principal reasons 
urged by Hildebrand why the refractory Church 
of England should be brought into entire sub- 
mission and obedience. 

The letters had been brought a few weeks 
previous to Leofwine’s arrival, and the monk 
who brought them said he would again call and 
carry others back if needful : so Leofwine went 
at once to prepare the one for his mother, giv- 
ing her all the news concerning his health and 
travels. To answer Githa’s, however, was not 
so easy ; and to add to his perplexity about this, 
the monk came a few days afterward — before he 
had decided how he could direct his sister in 
the matter that was so evidently of vital impor- 
tance to her, since, as she told him at the close 
of her letter, she had learned this art of writing 
in Wales, but had never ventured to use it for 
fear of being accused of witchcraft. She had 
braved this, however, to get her mental diffi- 
culty solved ; and now it seemed that the monk 
would have to go back without the desired 
word of counsel. He was a young man who' 
had entered the monastery since Leofwine left, 
and was therefore a stranger to the latter ; but 


Rival Popes. 


261 

Leofwine learned from him, to his surprise, that 
the fame of his learning and travels, and the 
high estimation in which he was held by Lan- 
franc, had reached Crowland, and that the broth- 
erhood were very proud of him. 

Leofwine sighed as he heard this ; it however 
reconciled him more than any thing else to his 
enforced stay at Rome. 

The stranger readily agreed to postpone his 
departure for an hour until the letters were 
ready, and Leofwine sat down once more to 
write to Githa. But what to say he knew not, 
and he sat with the little scroll of parchment 
before him, still anxiously perplexed, when sud- 
denly a light seemed to break in upon his mind, 
and words he had read in the scriptorium that 
morning came to his memory, and he wrote at 
once as follows : — 

To Githa, my beloved sister, ‘ grace, mercy, 
and peace.' ‘ Search the Scriptures, for in them 
ye have eternal life, and they testify truly con- 
cerning me.’ This is the word of the Lord as 
truly as my memory will bear it, and I send it 
to thee concerning the matter on which thou 
hast written. I cannot add more to it, or take 
aught from it. The Lord guide thee into his 
truth, and make thy learning yield thee peace. 

Thy brother, Leofwine.” 


262 


Leofwine. 


He did not feel satisfied with this letter ; but 
there was not time to write another, and so it 
was tied and sealed, and handed to the messen- 
ger. Then Leofwine went out into the street 
to inquire how it fared outside the gates — 
whether one of the rival pontiffs had decided 
to give up the contest and spare further blood- 
shed ; but, to his sorrow, he heard that Hilde- 
brand violently opposed all suggestions that 
Alexander should yield the throne to his rival. 
It was with him merely a question as to whether 
the clergy of Rome had the right to elect a 
pope to rule the Church by any method they 
pleased, and that without the consent of the 
emperor ; but also, that the pope of Rome, as 
vicar of Christ, had the right to dominate all 
Christian Churches, and all temporal powers 
whatsoever. 

Honorius, the pope chosen by the emperor, 
was equally determined not to yield his position, 
and so the fighting went on, and to-day Rome 
was rejoicing in a German defeat, while the 
wounded and the prisoners were being brought 
in at the gates, groaning and cursing both popes 
in turn. Leofwine, who had wandered near the 
outskirts of the city, followed one of these par- 
ties of wounded men, for he heard a voice that 
strongly reminded him of his lost brother, and 


Rival Popes. 


263 


was certainly, judging from his speech, that of 
a fellow-countryman, who therefore had a claim 
to be cared for at his hand. 

So Leofwine gained admission to the prison, 
and, finding the young soldier was very ill, ob- 
tained permission to have him removed to the 
infirmary of the monastery, where, as his leech, 
he could attend him. Whether he was sensible 
or not, he could not tell at first, for he never 
spoke after he entered the monastery until near 
midnight, when, as Leofwine was watching by 
his side and administering cooling drinks to 
allay the fever, he suddenly sprang up in bed 
shouting, '' A bear ! a bear ! Press on, vikings, 
to Lord Hereward’s side.” 

It was with some difficulty that the monk 
persuaded him to lie down again, and when at 
last his head again rested on the pillow he kept 
murmuring, Mother, mother, sing me the vaga 
of the Swan’s Bath and the White Christ, and I 
will stay at home with thee, and Leofwine, and 
Githa. ’Tis a pity Leofwine did not go to the 
monastery instead of me — no, A bear ! a bear ! 
Lord Hereward to the rescue ! Down with the 
Roman popes ! True vikings will be in bondage 
to no man.” 

Leofwine sat, and watched, and listened to 
these wild ravings that told so true a tale of the 
17 


264 


Leofwine. 


speaker’s life. It scarcely needed the punc- 
tured throat, and wrists with their designs, 
after the fashion of Lord Hereward’s, to con- 
vince him that it was his long-lost brother found 
at last. 

But the joyful discovery was not without an 
almost equal feeling of pain, for was he not a 
prisoner taken in arms, and that not against a 
temporal prince, for then the Church might step 
in and rriercifully interpose its power to save 
him ; but now all that power would be used to 
condemn rather than save, for it was against the 
Church as represented in the sacred person of 
the pontiff against whom he had been waging 
war : and thinking of this, Leofwine grew still 
more anxious about his brother’s probable fate. 
His wounds were not so dangerous as he had at 
first supposed, and in a few days he would be 
well enough to go back to prison, and then — 

Leofwine dared not think what next, for the 
vision of his mother, with pale face, and sad, 
pleading eyes, rose before him, and he resolved 
to make some effort at once to rescue his brother 
from his unhappy and perilous position. He 
had been directed by Lanfranc to wait upon the 
Cardinal Hildebrand as soon as he should return 
from his travels, to give him an account of all 
he had seen and heard in the East, but hitherto 


Rival Popes. 


265 


Hildebrand had been so much occupied that 
Leofwine had not obtained admission to his 
presence ; but he resolved to press for it the 
very next morning to plead his brother’s cause 
without delay, and obtain permission for him to 
return to England. 


266 


Leofwine. 


CHAPTER XXL 


HILDEBRAND’S PLANS. 

O obtain admission to the pope himself was 



-L more easy than to his great cardinal ; but 
Leofwine, after several hours' waiting, found 
himself in the little bare room with its crucifix, 
hour-glass, and death's head, that took the place 
of ornaments and furniture too, with the ex- 
ception of three chairs. In an adjoining apart- 
ment two secretaries sat writing, but they were 
not seen, nor yet the scribe, who sat nearer 
still and took down the name of each who 
entered his master’s presence, with notes of the 
conversation that passed. 

Hildebrand looked genuinely pleased to see 
the young English monk again, and made such 
inquiries about his journey and all he had seen, 
and the treatment Christians received from the 
conquerors of Jerusalem, that in detailing these 
things Leofwine almost forgot the principal ob- 
ject of his visit, more especially when Hildebrand 
told him of the great plan he was concocting in 
his mind for rescuing the lapsed Greek Church 
from her heresy to union with Rome, and form- 


Hildehmtd 's Plans. 


267 


ing a confederacy of all the princes of Europe, 
to rescue the Holy Land from the Saracens. 

Something like this had often been Leofwine's 
day-dream while on his journey homeward, and 
now that he saw some hope of its ultimate suc- 
cess, he was, of course, most delighted. 

^Ht must be successful,” said Hildebrand, 
“ although we shall have to tarry with patience 
for a few years before we can commence any 
active plans ; but with William, count of the 
Normans, firmly seated on the English throne.” 

Leofwine started, and forgetting the deference 
due to his superior hastily interrupted him. 
“A Norman on the throne of England!” he 
exclaimed. Then recollecting himself, he bowed 
with humble deference, and said, “ Pardon my 
rashness, but thy news hath greatly surprised 
me.” 

‘'And wherefore should it.^” inquired Hilde- 
brand sternly ; “ our sainted son, Edward, hath 
long promised that his cousin of Normandy 
should be his successor, and now Harold, God- 
win’s son, hath sworn on the holy relics and by 
St. Valery to support his claim. It was feared 
by some that this Harold himself would stretch 
forth his hand toward the scepter, but he is no 
friend to holy Church ; therefore his claim can- 
not be allowed by the holy father even if William 


268 


Leofwine. 


of Normandy were not of close kin to Edward. 
Hildebrand spoke quite calmly,, as though the 
throne of England were a fief of the Church, 
and he were disposing of it as he would a bish- 
opric. Outwardly, Leofwine was calm too — 
calm enough to disguise the storm of feeling 
that was raging in his heart even from the pen- 
etrating gaze of the cardinal, and he went on to 
explain how William was to remain passive un- 
til Edward’s death, and how his claim then to 
be sent in would be supported by the Church, 
and all the bishops and abbots, who were ap- 
pointed in the interest of the pope. 

The conference ended, Leofwine bowed low, 
and drawing his cowl silently over his head, de- 
parted without saying a word about his brother. 
All he could clearly remember of any thing but 
the late conference were his father s words when 
they were riding together from Crowland, — 

“ My son was his country’s man before he 
struck hands with the Church ; ” and this was 
just Leofwine’s difficulty, or rather one of the 
greatest that now entangled him. The English- 
man could not, would not, be sunk in the monk. 
He would not stand by and quietly see his coun- 
try sold without an effort at least to save her. 
Alric should go home at all costs ; he would help 
him to escape in the garb of a monk ; and rous- 


Hildebrand's Plans. 


269 


ing the spirit of the Danelagh men, surely they 
would unite with Harold to prevent this usur- 
pation, for he knew enough of Norman wiles to 
feel sure that such a promise, if made, had been 
extorted by foul means from the English earl. 
How he wished he had a stout, strong arm, and 
was a viking ” and berserker,” as Alric loved 
to call himself, that he might strike a blow 
at his country’s enemy, as his brother could. 
But then he recollected that not William, but 
the pope and great cardinal, were England’s 
most wily foes, and it came to his mind that he 
might yet help poor, unsuspecting, betrayed 
England by staying here and watching the 
machinations of her foes, and, giving his friends 
timely warning of the danger, might serve her 
better than if he returned to Bee or Crowland. 
To play the spy was not pleasant, was alto- 
gether foreign to his honest English nature ; 
but he had learned the lesson of dissimulation 
from his teachers, and that it should be turned 
against them for once seemed to afford him 
some satisfaction. 

On visiting his patient again he found the 
fever much subdued ; but he bade the brother 
who was nursing him to watch him closely, as 
he feared he would again be violent toward night 
and might then require his personal attendance. 


2/0 


Leofwine. 


This he knew would be sufficient to arouse 
his ignorant fears, and give him the opportu- 
nity of being once more alone with his brother, 
when he hoped he would be well enough to 
hear the startling news he had to impart, and 
they might together arrange some plan for his 
escape. 

It was as he hoped and expected. The fear 
of being with one under the possession of spirits 
so alarmed the brethren that Leofwine was 
again implored to sit up with his patient. So 
he administered a soothing draught, which in- 
duced a refreshing sleep, and when Alric awoke, 
his brother saw that he was conscious, although 
at first he refused to speak. A few words about 
their Danelagh home, however, soon unloosed 
his tongue, and Leofwine gradually told him 
all he then thought it prudent to impart to 
him, reserving the more important details for 
another night. 

At first Alric refused to return to England. 
He was Lord Here ward's man, and would re- 
turn to Flanders to him ; but at the word of 
jdanger to England he was willing to give up 
his own project to carry the word of warning 
that was to rouse the Danelagh. But at the 
name of Harold, Godwin’s son, this changed 
again. 


V 


Hildebrand's Plans, 271 

^^What! men of East Anglia fight for Wes- 
sex and the Godwins ! ” exclaimed Alric. 

‘‘ Nay, but hear me, my brother ; is not Wes- 
sex England as well as East Anglia ? and are not 
the Godwins Englishmen as well as Leofric’s 
sons ? ” 

Alric turned himself impatiently. Thou 

art a shaveling monk, and knowest nothing 
concerning men and the stirring world they live 
in,'' he said. 

His brother smiled. Nay, but I understand 
more than you who fight, concerning the power 
that is greater than sword or battle-ax. I tell 
thee, Alric, knowledge is power, and the Church 
of Rome is using it now to rob our merrie En- 
gland of all her liberty ; and unless ye forget 
your ancient feuds, ye men of sword and ax, 
she will be sold before your eyes." 

Danelagh men will never fight beside those 
of Wessex," muttered Alric," but I will bear thy 
message to England." 

“ And comfort our mother's heart by staying 
near the old homestead," put in Leofwine. 

“ Nay, but thou canst fly back to the hooded 
crows of St. Guthlac and stay by them," replied 
Alric roughly. 

But when Leofwine explained how he thought 
he could serve his country by still remaining in 


272 


Leofwine. 


Rome, and that a letter, commanding him to 
stay and copy certain manuscripts for the mon- 
astery of Bee had just arrived from his teacher, 
Lanfranc, Alric consented, after some grum- 
bling, to go to England before returning to Lord 
Hereward in Flanders. 

A few days later and Leofwine had matured 
a plan for his brother’s escape, which immedi- 
ately afterward seemed to be frustrated, for an 
order came from Cardinal Hildebrand com- 
manding Leofwine to go to Turin and copy 
certain manuscripts in the monastery there, as 
the pope needed them in his library, and Lan- 
franc had recommended him to the notice of his 
former pupil, now Pope Alexander, as the most 
proper man to do this work. 

Leofwine might have felt flattered at this had 
he not been so anxious about his brother ; but 
now he could think of nothing but his dan- 
ger, and the almost utter impossibility of Alric 
making his escape after his own departure from 
Rome. 

At length, however, he thought of another 
device ; and as he had learned by this time that 
lying and deception were counted as small sins 
by his superiors, he did not hesitate to practice 
both for the furtherance of his object. Can 
one take fire in his bosom and not be burned, 


Hildebrand 's Plans. 


273 


or handle pitch and not be defiled ? Even so 
had it been with Leofwine and this corrupted 
Church — the more he saw of her practice the 
more did he lose of that simple, straightforward 
honesty of thought and purpose which had been 
prominent traits of his character, so that he had 
now little compunction in doing what he did to 
secure his brother’s escape. 

It was arranged that Leofwine should go by 
boat to Genoa, and thus escape the danger of fall- 
ing into the hands of any marauding parties from 
the great body of the German army that still lay 
outside the city walls, although they had recently 
suffered a great defeat, and negotiations were 
now in progress for submitting the claims of the 
rival popes to the arbitration of a council. That 
Alric should go with him he must personate a 
monk too, and, fortunately for the success of the 
plan, the young soldier’s weakness helped him 
to keep up this disguise better than any thing 
else could have done. 

It is doubtful whether all Leofwine’s admo- 
nitions and exhortations would have induced 
him to assume the shuffling step and downcast 
mien of a monk, instead of the martial bearing 
and swaggering step of the berserker ; but now 
his weakness, compelled him to drag his feet 
slowly one after the other, and before the boat 


274 


Leofwine. 


was reached he was glad to lean on Leofwine's 
shoulder for support. 

Once out on the open sea, however, Alric 
revived wonderfully, and regained his former 
strength so rapidly that at Genoa Leofwine 
was obliged to urge him to be cautious, and not 
walk so rapidly, or throw aside his cowl so im- 
petuously as he often did. 

Once out of the city the need of caution was 
not so great, for Leofwine avoided the great 
highway as much as possible, and skirted it by 
walking through the fields of maize and millet 
wherever he could find a path, for he had resolved 
not to risk detection by taking Alric to Turin, 
but to keep on until the pass of the Alps was 
reached, and then, leaving his brother to traverse 
the mountain road by himself, return to Turin 
alone. 

Alric, however, had well-nigh betrayed him- 
self before they were many miles on their jour- 
ney, for they were overtaken by a party of trouba- 
dours, and these traveling poets and minstrels, 
who had set themselves the task of exposing the 
errors of the Church and the vices of its clergy, 
thought the opportunity of edifying a couple of 
monks who were traveling in the same direction 
as themselves too good a one to be lost, and so 
they at once commenced singing one of their 


Hildebrand's Plans. 275 

satires in French, which- both Alric and Leof- 
wine understood now almost as well as their 
native English. 

‘‘ There are no crimes for which ^pardon can- 
not be obtained from the monks for money ; 
they grant to renegades and usurers that sepul- 
ture which they deny to the poor, who have 
nothing to pay. To live at ease, to enjoy good 
fish, fine wheat bread, and exquisite wines, is 
their great object during the whole year. God 
grant me to be a monk, if salvation is to be. pur- 
chased at this price ! " 

Nay ; but, sir minstrel, I am no shaveling,’* 
interrupted Alric. 

But the second troubadour took up his part 
without heeding this. “ Rome,” he sung, thou 
hast established thy see in the bottom of the 
abyss and of perdition. How much innocent 
blood hast thou spilt ? Falsehood, disgrace, and 
infamy reign in thy heart. With the exterior 
of a lamb, thou art within a ravening wolf, and 
a crowned serpent.*’ 

Here thou speakest truly,** put in Alric, who 
paid no heed to Leofwine’s warning gestures. 

“ If thou deemest we speak truly, go and 
learn of some humble Christian barbe in the 
valley of the Alps what is the better way of 
serving God,” said the third minstrel ; and after 


2/6 


Leofwine. 


following them a little further, they allowed 
them to pursue their way without any more 
pinging. 

I have heard of these troubadours in Rome,’’ 
remarked Leofwine. 

Doubtless they would like to catch them in 
Rome, and there would be a little more innocent 
blood spilt. But tell me now truly, if a monk 
can speak truth,” said Alric, ‘‘dost thou not 
believe in thy soul that Rome is as foul as these 
minstrels say.^” 

For a moment Leofwine hesitated ; but he 
could not resist his brother’s open, honest face, 
and he answered, “ I believe all they say, and 
the wolf and the serpent will destroy our merrie 
England, unless her sons can forget all private 
feuds and be as one in resisting Count William’s 
claim to the throne.’* 

“ Thou dost, then, believe that the Church is 
a ravening wolf, and yet thou wilt serve her 
still ! ” exclaimed Alric. 

Leofwine sighed. “ I have placed my hand 
in hers, even as thou hast in Lord Hereward’s. 
Thou wouldst serve him to the death because 
thou art his man, and I serve the holy Church 
the same. Only in this will I not yield to hen 
command ; I am my country’s man, and I will 
do naught against England — even for Rome.” 


HildebraiuV s Plans. 277 

Alric knew not what to say against this. If 
there were another Church !” he began. 

But Leofwine hastily interrupted him. There 
is none other but the Greek — that heretic 
Church, that hath cut herself off from Rome,” 
he said. 

'' She may be none the worse, but all the bet- 
ter for that,” said Alric dryly. Who are these 
barbes of the Alpine valleys whom the trouba- 
dours bid us seek } ” he asked. 

Nay, I know not. I have heard naught con- 
cerning them at Rome ; although the heresy of 
Beranger and his poor scholars were much talked 
of at the time of the council. I did not know 
that it had a hiding-place in the Alps, as these 
minstrels would have us believe.” 

“ Nay, they said naught concerning this Beran- 
ger, but it was on serving God,” interrupted 
Alric, and having little else to occupy his mind 
just now, he amused himself with conjectures 
concerning these people of the valleys. 

Leofwine resolved to accompany his brother 
to the mountain path, and, if possible, see some 
of these people for himself, for he, too, felt curi- 
ous about them. By the time this part of their 
journey was accomplished his skill as a leech 
was needed by Alric again, for he had over- 
tasked his strength by the long journey from 


2/8 


Leofwine. 


Genoa, and, what was even more dangerous, one 
of the sword wounds had broken open again 
and was bleeding profusely, when he sank down 
by the roadside in a stat^ of exhaustion. See- 
ing a little cottage near Leofwine ran for assist- 
ance at once, and when the door was opened he 
saw, to his astonishment, the stately matron 
whom he had met outside the walls of Milan. 
Hers was a face not easily forgotten, and Leof- 
wine recognized her in a moment, .almost before 
he had asked for the cup of water he needed. 

The lady recognized him, too, for with a smile 
she answered, '' I will give thee a cup of wine, 
if thou wilt step in, for I do well remember thy 
face, and my husband hath often blessed thee 
for helping him to believe that all monks had 
not ceased to be men.” 

‘‘ Nay, but if thou canst give me a draught of 
wine for my brother, who hath fainted by the 
way, I will give thee thanks, and ask naught for 
myself,” said Leofwine hastily. 

The wine was soon brought, and hearing that 
the traveler was suffering from a sword cut, she 
followed Leofwine with bandages of linen, and 
a preparation of herbs, used in such cases. 
Her keen eyes soon detected that the monk’s 
garb was but a disguise, and she said archly, 
“ Thy brother were better out of sight of pas- 


Hildebrand's Plans, 279 

sengers. If thou wilt stay by him I will fetch 
my husband from his school, who will help thee 
to carry him to our cottage.” 

Leofwine could make no objection to this, for 
Alric was quite insensible again now, and he 
knew not where to look for shelter without be- 
traying their dangerous secret. As he expected, 
the schoolmaster of this Alpine valley was the 
priest of Milan, who had declared he would 
brave all the thunders of Rome rather than give 
up his wife and children. 

I have found a resting-place, as thou seest,” 
he said, as they carried Alric into the cottage 
and laid him on the bed. 

Leofwine looked round the room as he entered. 
Not a crucifix was to be seen, nor the picture of 
a saint or image of the virgin. Had it come to 
pass as he had feared, that, in braving the anger 
of the Church, he had cut himself loose from all 
fear of God and the blessed saints as well 1 
This question, however, was soon settled, for 
when the evening meal was over the children 
brought out some stools, and placing them near 
their father’s chair, they gathered close round 
his knees, while he questioned each about their 
doings of the day, commending or warning 
them as they deserved. Then a copy of the 

Gospel was placed before him, and two or three 
18 


28o 


Leofwine. 


of the neighbors came in, when he read a chap- 
ter, and gave some simple explanation of its 
meaning. Then followed a prayer, in which 
God himself was addressed, not the saints or 
virgin, and things were asked for which all 
needed — grace to conquer temptation, subdue 
evil passions, and persevere in doing right, and 
above all, that the love of God might be shed 
abroad in all their hearts, that they might believe 
and understand that he was their father and 
they his children through Christ. 

Alric tossed himself in the bed as the prayer 
was concluded. ^ ‘‘ Leofwine, these are the peo- 
ple of the valley whom the troubadours told us 
of. They have found out another way of serving 
God, and their religion is just what men want.” 

Leofwine thought at first that his brother must 
be wandering in his mind, but on looking more 
closely he saw that the tears were standing in his 
eyes. I have heard all that prayer,” he said, 
‘'and it is just what I want — I want a God I 
can speak to without the help of saints and vir- 
gins. I know I am not worthy to serve the 
White Christ, but some of thy saints are little 
better, and I would fain go to him as I am, with- 
out any thing to recommend me but that I am 
a poor berserker, who hath robbed monk and 
priest, but often helped a poor widow.” 


Hildebrand's Plans. 281 

Leofwine knew not how to reply to this, for 
he was himself so agitated by what he had just 
heard that he could only exclaim with Githa, 
‘‘Have we been making a mistake all this 
time? ” 

He resolved to question his host upon this 
matter as soon as possible, for it might be that 
he should find some solution of his own doubts, 
questionings, and misgivings ; and so, long after 
the family had retired to rest, Leofwine and his 
host sat talking — talking of the Vaudois Church, 
which, under Claude, Bishop of Turin, had re- 
jected most of the errors of Rome. 

“And thou hast no image or relic worship; 
not even the saints or virgin are adored, thou 
sayest,” repeated Leofwine. 

“ Nay, but we pray to God for ourselves, ac- 
cepting no mediator but He whom the Script- 
ure doth set forth, even the Lord Jesus Christ. 
The pastors, or barbes, of our Churches are men, 
simple, holy, and of blameless lives, who read 
the Scriptures to those who cannot read for 
themselves, and work with their own hands to 
provide things honest in the sight of all men.” 

“And thou dost suffer the Scriptures to be 
read in the ears of unlearned people ? ” 

“ It is God’s word, and I would that all could 
read it for themselves. To this end I am teach- 


282 


Leokwine. 


ing all who will learn this clerkly art,” answered 
the schoolmaster. 

Leofwine stayed talking to his friendly host 
for several hours after the rest of the family had 
retired, and gladly accepted his invitation to stay 
a few days in the Vaudois valley. 

Leofwine slept but little that night ; for, al- 
though Alric was better again now, this con- 
versation with the schoolmaster had so startled 
him that for awhile at first he could not com- 
pose himself to sleep, but paced the little room 
where Alric lay, while bethought over all he had 
heard. ‘‘ Can it be that these pilgrimages I 
have made — the fastings and penances I have 
endured — are all in vain, and that pardon for 
sins is freely given to all who believe in the 
Lord Christ ? ” Then, after a pause, during which 
he stopped and thought more deeply over these 
last words, he went on speaking half-aloud : 
‘"'Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ.* I have 
heard or read those words before, but I do not 
believe in them ! The Church was founded by 
his apostle, the blessed St. Peter, and I believe 
all the Church teaches. I wprship the virgin 
and saints, and — but these Vaudois Christians 
do not worship the virgin or go on pilgrimage, 
and yet they each of them seem to possess the 
joy and peace for which I have labored and 


Hildebrand's Plans, 283 

fasted and prayed even at the sacred sepulcher 
itself. O ! if it should be that I and all our 
great Church have been mistaken — have been 
groping like blind men for the light, and yet 
resolutely turning our eyes toward the dark- 
ness !'* 

With a groan of agony he fell upon his knees 
in a distant corner of the room and prayed. For 
the first time, he ventured tremblingly to ap- 
proach the mercy-seat of Christ without the 
intervention of saint or virgin, without pleading 
any of his own good works as a recommenda- 
tion, but with the simple cry of a little child he 
asked God to teach him which was right — the 
Church or these Vaudois Christians, who seemed 
to have found what he had long sought in vain. 

Leofwine did not expect any miraculous visi- 
tation or vision in answer to his prayer, as he 
once did. He felt himself almost unworthy of 
an answer at all now, for who was he but a poor 
ignorant monk, not knowing what to believe, 
and so utterly miserable in the unrest of his 
soul that he would gladly give up all hopes of 
advancement in the Church for the possession 
of that peace, and rest, and joy, this poor de- 
spised schoolmaster seemed to have attained ; 
and so it was with a feeling of surprise that he 
at length rose from his knees a little comforted. 


284 


Leofwine. 


a little rested by the reality of prayer, and laid 
himself down to sleep just as the first rays of 
the sun began to gild the tops of the neighbor- 
ing mountains. 

The news that two monks were in the village 
caused some little surprise among the Vaudois 
inhabitants ; but when they heard from the 
schoolmaster that both of them were seeking to 
know the truth, many were the prayers that 
ascended for them to the throne of grace, and 
they were gladly welcomed to the little church 
where they assembled for worship. Any thing 
more unlike the gorgeously decorated Roman 
churches could not be imagined than this 
plain, barn-like building. No images, pictures, 
crosses, or silken curtains hung here, and the 
pastors wore the simple garb of the other 
inhabitants. 

But all surroundings were soon forgotten by 
Leofwine, swallowed up in a sudden ecstasy 
that seemed to come upon him like a sunbeam 
from heaven as the pastor read : ‘‘ If any man 
sin, we have an advocate with the Father, Jesus 
Christ the righteous : and he is the propitiation 
for our sins : and not for ours only, but also for 
the sins of the whole world.’’ It seemed as 
though tlie gate of heaven were suddenly opened 
before his enraptured gaze, and he could see — 


Hildebrajtd' s Plans. 


285 


not a host of saints — not the virgin mother, 
but Christ himself pleading for him — pleading 
that he, poor, blind, ignorant Leofwine, the 
monk, might be enlightened, might be taught 
by the holy Spirit. 

Then his thoughts wandered away from the 
reader and the church, and he thought of the 
story he had read in the old Saxon Bible at 
Crowland — the story of the crucifixion — and for 
the first time he realized that this was the sacri- 
fice for sin once offered for all, which Beranger s 
poor scholar spoke of in Rome when railing 
against the sacrifice of the mass. 

The thought of this brought back to his mind 
all that he once clung to so fondly as necessary 
to be believed, even though it were against the 
instincts of reason, and he sighed as one labor- 
ing to rid himself of a cumbrous garment that 
only hindered his progress. 

But soon there came the blissful thought, 
that behind, and above, and beyond all these, 
Christ had at last revealed himself to his soul as 
the perfect sacrifice, the all-sufficient Saviour, 
who could and who would pardon all his igno- 
rance and self-righteousness, as well as the sins 
that had so heavily pressed upon him, and hence- 
forth it should be his life-work to make this 
Saviour known to all men who came within his 


286 


Leofwine. 


influence. He stayed a few days longer in the 
valley mingling with its simple, pious, contented 
inhabitants, and noticing their poverty, but pure 
and blameless lives. He and Alric had several 
conversations upon the habits and faith of this 
strange people, and then Leofwine reluctantly 
left him to return to Turin, resolving to study 
the writings of Claude, who had established 
this Church, as well as copy manuscript for the 
pope. 


Conclusion, 


287 


CHAPTER XXIL 

CONCLUSION. 

O NCE more we must ask our readers to 
accompany us to the old Danelagh house- 
hold, where, in the great hall, there is now as- 
sembled a goodly company of house-carls and 
lithsmen. At the table, too, sits Alric, the 
merriest and happiest of the company, who are 
now feasting at the well-spread board, although 
the mead and ale are passed on untasted, to the 
never-ceasing surprise of his countrymen. He 
has been at home two or three years now, and 
Eric has learned to respect and depend on his 
former scape-grace son, while to Elswitha he is 
a comfort and stay almost as great as Leofwine 
himself could have been. 

But although Alric was all that either mother 
or father could desire in a son, and the tried 
friend of the poor and helpless of Bourne, as 
well as the hero of the house-carls, still, from 
the skill and agility with which he played in all 
the athletic sports, there was something about 
him no one in the house could understand. He 
was never with the riotous youths of the Dane- 


288 


Leofwine. 


lagh in their riotous outbreaks, and he had 
never once been senseless from drinking the 
strong ale since he had been home ; indeed, he 
rarely touched either ale or mead, but was as 
abstemious as any of the monks at Crowland ; 
but, to his mother’s great grief and his father’s 
surprise, he showed the greatest contempt for 
these same monks, and not much more rever- 
ence for the holy relics, calling them rags and 
bones, and openly avowing that he never prayed 
to either saints or virgin. His mother had 
thought that it was the natural boldness of his 
character that induced him to venture to pray 
to God himself without the intervention of the 
saints, but she discovered that Githa was fol- 
lowing the same practice now, and she said she 
had learned that this was right from the holy 
Scripture, which Leofwine had bade her read 
and follow. 

Githa was a greater lady now than her sister 
Editha, for her mistress was no longer the wid- 
owed queen of Wales, but the wife of Harold 
and Lady of England. Edward, the king, had 
gone to his palace in the Isle of Thorney to 
consecrate his new minster on Christmas Day, 
and on Twelfth-Day Eve he died, naming Har- 
old as his successor, which choice was imme- 
diately confirmed by that of the witan. To 


Co7icliision, 


289 


consolidate his power, especially against such a 
foe as William of Normandy, it was needful to 
make an alliance with the house of Mercia, and 
he asked Aldytha to be his wife. And so it 
was that through the man whom her father re- 
garded as the greatest obstacle in the way of 
his ambition, Aldytha attained this high estate 
— the place her father had plotted and schemed 
in vain to secure for her — the throne of En- 
gland. 

It was in honor of this great event that feast- 
ing and reveling was now the order of the day 
in Bourne, for the Danelagh men felt flattered, 
and were well satisfied to follow King Harold, 
although they had laughed and mocked when 
Alric came home with his news concerning 
William of Normandy, and how the pope had 
favored his views. 

This subject had apparently passed from their 
minds, for danger was now threatening from an- 
other quarter. Tostig, Harold’s brother, had 
been driven from his earldom of Northumbria 
by his angry subjects, and had now gone to 
Flanders or Denmark to secure aid not only 
to conquer Northumbria, but the whole of En- 
gland if he could. So there was a little grave 
talk as well as rejoicing as the men ate their 
pork and fish, and drank huge horns of ale, for 


290 


Leofwine. 


it might be that before the alder buds had burst 
into full leaf they would be called to shoulder 
battle-ax and go forth against their old foes 
and kinsmen, the Danes. 

Elswitha, too, could not but feel somewhat 
anxious concerning her long absent son. He, 
of course, had long since attained such holiness 
that all earthly love had been laid aside, for had 
he not been to Rome and Jerusalem, and spent 
long vigils watching beside the holy sepulcher ; 
and in these stories of her son’s great attain- 
ments in holiness the mother’s heart rejoiced, 
although she could not help wishing sometimes 
that he had not grown so far beyond her that 
she dare only think of him as a saint instead of 
her boy Leofwine, who had played at her knee 
and been hushed in her arms. 

Alric had, of course, told them all about his 
brother, and that he was high in favor with the 
pope and cardinals ; but then he gave a sorry 
picture of the holy city Rome, and spoke of the 
Church as the troubadours had , done, which 
was a grief and puzzle to his mother and sister, 
Edburgha, who would enumerate all the good 
the Church did for the world, and how it had 
saved her father’s life when he was outlawed. 
Then Alric would relate all he had seen and 
heard concerning the pope and clergy, and 


Conclusion. 


291 

their plans for gaining the mastery of the 
world. 

'' The world and the Church must surely be 
in a dreadful tangle,” said the girl one day after 
listening to some of Alric’s stories ; and she 
sighed as she tried to straighten out her em- 
broidery worsted, that had suggested the simile 
to her mind. 

“ Thou art right there, Edburgha, and many 
are sighing as deeply over their vain efforts to 
set the world straight, as thou art over thy 
worsted.” 

Cannot King Harold put it all right 1 ” 
asked Edburgha. 

Nay, but England is not the world, little 
one,” said Alric ; only God, who made the 
world and rules it, can understand all about it ; 
all these tangled threads that seem to hang as 
useless as these do form thy embroidery,” and 
he laid his finger on what seemed a complicated 
mass of loose threads a^d disjointed patches of 
color. 

‘'Nay, but these are not useless,” said his 
sister quickly. “ I could not weave in the pat- 
tern without these same threads. Look on this 
side,” she said, turning over her work and dis- 
closing a lovely design, almost complete and 
perfect in every detail. “ There ! ” she ex- 


292 


Leofwine. 


claimed ; ‘‘call not my work a mass of tangled 
threads again/' she added, laughing. 

But Alric did not join in the laugh. He sat 
looking at the embroidery, and yet with a va- 
cant look, as though his thoughts were far away. 
At length he said, “ Shall we call God’s work 
tangled, and his threads useless ? Little sister, 
thou hast taught me again what I first learned 
in the Vaudois valley, that we are putting in 
our little stitches at the back almost in the 
dark, but by and by the eternal day will dawn, 
and then we shall see on the other side that 
not one was useless ; that there is no tangle or 
loose threads in God’s work ; that he is working 
in the world as thou art on thy embroidery, un- 
derstanding what the pattern shall be, and using 
all the seeming useless, unmanageable threads 
to form the design he hath chosen. Many thanks, 
little sister, for thy lesson in embroidery,” he 
added. “ I wish Leofwine could come home 
and learn of thee, too.” 

Alric often spoke thus of Leofwine, but no 
one ever clearly understood what he meant ; 
and although Elswitha often longed, too, for a 
sight of her dearly loved son, there seemed no 
likelihood that her wish would be gratified, for 
news came to Crowland sometimes concerning 
the young brother they had sent forth, but it 


Conclusion. 


293 

was always the same : he was busy about the 
pope’s or the cardinal’s business in Rome. 

And so this summer of 1066 passed on qui- 
etly until near its close, and then came rumors 
that Tostig had at last collected a force suffi- 
cient to invade his old earldom of Northum- 
bria, who had chosen Morcar, the young Earl of 
Mercia, to rule over them. And so the men 
of Bourne had gathered what they could of the 
harvest, leaving the rest for the women to do, 
while they furbished arms and sharpened spears 
and battle-axes. 

Alric was, of course, as busy as any of his 
father’s house-carls over this work, when one 
day he ran hastily into his mother’s bower, 
almost overturning Edburgha and her em- 
broidery. My mother, a holy palmer hath 
come from beyond the seas ! ” he began ; but 
what else he would have said cannot be known, 
for at this moment the palmer himself came 
in, and with a wild cry of “ Mother ! mother ! 
O my mother!” he had flung aside his staff, 
and throwing himself on his knees beside the 
couch where she sat, had buried his face on her 
shoulder. 

Elswitha knew that voice in a moment, and 
fondly she clasped that tonsured head, forget- 
ful of all else but that she held Leofwine in 


294 


Leofwine. 


her arms once more, as she murmured softly 
between her sobs, ‘‘ My son, my son ! God hath 
given me back my son ! the saints have brought 
him to my arms again ! ” 

At those words, however, Leofwine gently 
raised his head and kissed the fair, faded face 
as he whispered, Nay, nay, my mother, not 
the saints, but God alone hath brought me to 
thee once more, for I have learned that He who 
gave the love sons bear their mothers looketh 
upon it with a smile of approval, and not as the 
Church teacheth.” 

But these words almost made Elswitha hold 
her breath with affright as she looked down 
into Leofwine’s pale, worn, but now peaceful 
face. I have tempted thee, my son — sinful 
woman that I am ! — tempted thee to forget thy 
vows, and that thou art a saint.’' 

Nay, nay, my mother, call me not a saint,” 
hastily interrupted Leofwine ; ‘‘ it grieveth me 
sorely now that men have, ever called me thus, 
for I am no saint, only a poor sinner, whom the 
Lord Christ hath redeemed with his blood and 
set free from the bondage of fear, and doubt, 
and perplexity that have hung about me like 
clanking chains and fetters ever since I began 
to look closely into the teaching and practice, 
profession and aims, of the Church. Mother, 


Co 7 tcltlsio 7 l, 295 

there is a better way of serving God than be- 
coming a monk and — ” 

But Elswitha turned pale with affright. “ Nay, 
nay, my son, say no more; thou art beside 
thyself. O Leofwme ! Leofwine ! my son, the 
saints are sorely punishing me for this, that I 
would have held thee back from becoming a 
monk if I could, and yet I prayed for thee when 
thou didst depart that thou mightest return in 
the peace of the saints to our isle of peace, even 
St. Guthlac.” 

And I have returned in peace, my mother. 
Thy prayer hath been answered, and peace the 
wars and troubles of the world can never mar 
hath been given to me at last. Githa and Alric, 
too, learned this before I did,” he said, glancing 
at his brother, who still stood near the door of 
the bower. 

A bright smile parted the lips of the young 
soldier. Thou didst lead others to the fount- 
ain of living waters, taking me to the Vaudois 
valley, and bidding Githa read our Saxon Script- 
ures, but thou wast athirst thyself as well as 
we.”. 

“ More thirsty than thou couldst ever have 
been, Alric ; but I thought the knowledge that 
gave power would give the wisdom to find God, 

and the peace of the Lord Christ too ; and not 
19 


296 


Leofwine. 


until I had tried all human inventions, all the 
Church doth prescribe for this thirst, could I 
come as a little, unlearned child, and confess 
that all I had done was worse than in vain. 
At Turin I read the works of its bishop, Claude, 
who hath now been dead two hundred years, 
and in them he plainly denounces image wor- 
ship, and many other practices of Rome, as 
being contrary to Scripture and the teaching 
of the apostles, and this appeal to Scripture 
is, as thou knowest, the rule of the Vaudois 
brethren.’' 

‘‘ They, and they only, are worthy successors 
of the early Church,” said Alric ; but, glancing 
at his mother, he saw that it distressed her ex- 
ceedingly, and so he desisted from saying more" 
against the Church of Rome, which Elswitha 
fondly regarded as the mother and guardian of 
all Churches. 

The Church, like the world, seemeth to be 
somewhat tangled just now,” she said. 

But God will make the crooked straight,” 
put in Leofwine. He then he went on to ex- 
plain the reason of his very hasty return. . 

He had left Rome almost as a fugitive, for 
hearing that his master, Lanfranc, had come on 
a mission from Count William again, he had 
contrived to find out what it was upon, and 


Conclusion, 


297 


discovered, as he had suspected, that the subject- 
matter of discussion between him and his for- 
mer pupil. Pope Alexander, and Cardinal Hil- 
debrand, was the conquest of England, since 
Harold had been made king, and that the pope 
had not only sanctioned the warlike prepara- 
tions that were now going on in Normandy, 
but had urged them forward, providing William 
would hold the crown of England as a fief of 
the Church, which he readily agreed to do. 
The pope had also given a consecrated banner, 
to be used as a standard, so that the invader 
was coming with all the might and terror of the 
Church to back him in his attempt to gain the 
crown, and Elswitha might well grow pale and 
tremble as she heard her sons discussing this. 

To bring tidings of this, that all due prepara- 
tions might be made to guard the coast and 
strengthen men s hands for the battle, Leofwine 
had traveled night and day until, footsore ^nd 
weary, he reached the king’s palace near the 
new minster, and told in the ears of Harold all 
he had heard in Rome. Here, too, he had seen 
his sister Githa, who took him to Editha’s 
house, near the holy well, where he heard that 
other men like Clapa, the mercer, were thirst- 
ing for the fountain of living waters — that fount 
which the Church had hidden under a multi- 


298 


Leofwine. 


tude of rites and ceremonies, relics and image 
worship, but which Leofwine now fondly hoped 
would soon be revealed to the world. 

He told Clapa all he had learned in the Vau- 
dois valley, and both agreed that if the Saxon 
Church could hold fast her liberty .to read the 
Scriptures, this truth might reach the hearts 
of men in spite of all the Church might do to 
hide it. 

But it was scarcely needful to urge this as 
an additional reason why the claim of William 
should be resisted. These merchants of Lon- 
don were as one man in this matter — the up- 
holding of their beloved king — only they would 
fain withhold him from going himself to the 
battle lest the hope and strength of England 
should be stricken down at one blow. 

But Harold smiled at their fears for him. 
He had given more than life for merrie En- 
gland, he said significantly, and men knew what 
he meant, for the Church had claimed Edith, 
his betrothed, for the life of the cloister, and 
Harold had bowed his head to the sacrifice, 
and acquiesced only because duty demanded 
that all he could do should be done for the 
union of Englishmen in the great struggle that 
was coming. 

To prepare the men of the Danelagh for this 


Conclusion. 


299 


struggle Leofwine had hurried away from Lon- 
don, and now that he had set men to work with 
renewed energy he would once more retire to 
the seclusion of Crowland, not to sit down idly 
while others, like Alric, went forth to battle, 
but on his knees to fight with them ; on his 
knees to fight against his own fierce will, that 
would rise up and clamor and demand that vic- 
tory should crown the arms of England. 

I cannot conclude this story better than in 
the words of the historian : ‘‘ The king set out 
for Hastings, where William, with sixty thousand 
Normans, was encamped, and so confident was 
he of victory that he sent round a fleet of seven 
hundred vessels to hinder William’s escape. On 
the night of the 13th of October the English 
encamped in one compact mass on an eminence 
at Senlac, nine miles from Hastings. 

‘'When the morning came, William divided his 
army into three bodies, the cavalry being in the 
rear, under the charge of the duke himself. ‘ God 
help us !’ was the battle cry of the Normans ; 
‘ the holy rood the rood of God,’ of the English. 

“ Battle was joined at nine in the morning, 
and raged for six hours without any decided 
advantage on either side. 

“The English, so long as they maintained 
their close order, could not be broken ; but a 


300 


Leofwine. 


feigned retreat drew them from their ranks, 
and gave the Normans the advantage. Even 
this failed to give the victory. William then 
ordered that the arrows should be shot upward, 
so as to fall upon the English. One of these 
piercing Harold in the eye, he was borne to 
the rear in agony, and shortly after died ; and 
in a little while his brothers, Gurth and Leof- 
wine, fell by the side of the standard. The 
English, disheartened at the fall of their lead- 
ers, began to give way, then broke up, and dis- 
persed through the wood. How many fell is 
not known, nor how many fought in this most 
memorable battle. Yet, though miserably lost, 
it was nobly contested by England.” 

The victory was a splendid one ; but if Har- 
old had not fallen it would have contributed 
very little toward gaining the crown of England. 
It was the death of Harold which gave William 
the scepter. The force of England was uncon- 
quered — a small part of it only had been engaged 
— and if Harold had survived, or any other heir 
at all competent to the crisis, William would have 
earned no more from his victory than the privi- 
lege of fighting another battle with diminished 
strength. But it was ordained by the Supreme 
Director of events that England should no 
longer remain insulated from the rest of Eu- 


V 


Co7tclusion, 


301 


rope, but should, for its own benefit and the 
improvement of mankind, become connected 
with the affairs of the continent. 

The Anglo-Saxon dynasty was, therefore, ter- 
minated, and a sovereign with great continental 
possessions was led to the English throne. 

By the consequences of this revolution En- 
gland acquired that interest, and established 
that influence in the transactions and fortunes 
of its neighbors, which have continued to the 
present day, with equal advantage to its inhab- 
itants and to Europe. 


THE END. 


1 





■■:,v#’ . .:^ '#l'3 

<►•/ . V -. ■ *! L 





^■-V .r •!<.-’';-• 


■ *. *1 


N 


* • 
»* ' 


• \ 




•’T 






f . 


C; 


j i 


>> • 


*-;> - 




‘r’ 

' f* ' ■ 

< I 






1 * Mj k 


» 





» 

i 


.::’>i4 


«• 'iTv 


4 t 
A 


« * • 


, A 


N 


4 


r* 





* i 


’ « 


'1/ 







( 


4 


« 


I 




. C» 


"' V. 

r % 


\ 









« 


c 



» 



'4 


\ 

y 




1! X ! 

! 



1 

> 

's 

^ PUBLISHED BY NELSON & PHILLIPS. ^ 

ROBIN RANGER’S STORIES ABOUT WILD BEASTS. 

48/710. Ten Volumes. In a Box. Frice^ $2 00. 

Monkeys. Weasels. 

The Lion. The Bear. 

The Tiger. Gnawing Animals. 

The Leopard. Antelopes. 

Wolves and Foxes. The Elephant. 

ROBIN RANGER’S STORIES ABOUT BIRDS. 

48mo. Ten Volumes.. In^a Box. Price., $2 00. 

Cone-BUled Birds. Cleft-Billed Birds. 

Eunning Birds and Pigeons. Hawks and Owls. 

Wading Birds. Climbing Birds. 

Vultures and Eagles. Tooth-Billed Birds. 

Swimming Birds. Slender-Billed Birds. 

ROBIN RANGER’S LIBRARY 

For Good Little Boys and Girls. 

Ten Volumes. In a Box. Price., $2 00. 

The Magic-Lantern. Out in the Garden. 

Up in the Garret. Naughty Jack. 

Sunshine Hall. Winter Days. 

Summer Days. Out of School. 

Johnny and his Mother. Grandma Gray. 

AUNTY RAY’S LITTLE LIBRARY 

FOR BOYS AND GIRLS. 

Ten Volumes. In a Box. Price., $2 00. 

Archie’s Fourth of J uly. Eva and the Fairy Tale. 

Lottie and Jennie. Lucy and Bell. 

The Fishhooks. Bessie and her Lamb. 

Grace and her Money-Box. Winnie and his Pets. 

Old Granny Tift. Frank and Joey. 

AUNT ALICE’S LIBRARY. 

Ten Volumes. In a Box. Price., $2 00. 

“Lion” and the Lamb Stick to It. 

Miss Alice’s Story. “Hard Things are Good for Folks.” 

Little Frisky. Arthur’s Visit to Grandpa’s. 

Getting Rich. W’hat Made Little Molly so Happy ? 

My Little Sister. The Little Prayer. 

^ __ 




1 V '^/i 



^ PUBLISHED BY NELSON & PHILLIPS^ 


GLEN ELDER BOOKS. 

Five Volumes. In a Box. Price., $6 00. 

The Orphans of Glen Elder. The Lyceum Boys. 

Francis Leslie. The Harleys of Chelsea Place. 

Eosa Lindesay. 

LIBRARY FOR LITTLE LADS AND LASSES. 

Five Volumes. In a Box, Price., $2 50. 

Archie and his Sisters. Stories about the Little Ones. 

Archie and Nep. More Stories about the Little Ones. 

The Fisher Boy’s Secret. 

LYNTONVILLE LIBRARY. 

Four Volumes. In a Box. Price., |4 50. 

Life in Lyntonville. Fishers of Derby Haven. 

Miss Carrol’s School. Grace's Visit. 


LOVING HEART AND HELPING HAND LIBRARY. 

Five Volumes. In a Box. Price., ^5 50. 

Nettie and her Sisters. An Orphan’s Story. 

Philip Moore, the Sculptor. Carrie Williams and her Scholars. 

The Story of a Moss-Kose. 

WINIFRED LEIGH LIBRARY. 

Four Volumes, In a Box. Price, $4 00. 

Winifred Leigh. In Self and Out of Self. 

The Captive Boy in Terra Del Fuego. Hetty Porter. 


LITTLE DOOR-KEEPER LIBRARY. 


Five Volumes. In a Box. Price, |6 00. 

Little Door-Keeper. Captain Christie’s Granddaughter. 

Miracles of Heavenly Love in False Shame. 

Daily Life. Joe Witless. 


MAUDE GRENVILLE LIBRARY. 

Five Volumes. In a Box. Price, $6 00. 


Maude Grenville Enoch Roden’s Training. 

Heroism of Boyhood. Victoria and Hilaria. 

The Children of the Great King. 






F 




PUBLISHED BY NELSON & PHILLIPS 


W 07' d of God Opejied. 

By B. K. Peirce. Large 16mo. 


$1 25 


Young Shetlander and his Ho77ie, 

Being a Biographical Sketch of Young Thomas 
Edmonston, the Naturalist, and an Interesting 
Account of the Shetland Islands. By B. K. 
Peirce, D.D. Illustrated. Large 16mo 1 25 

Adventures of a Missiojiary j 

Or, Rivers of Water in a Dry Place. Being an 
Account of the Introduction of the Gospel of 
Jesus into South Africa, and of Mr. Moffat’s 
Missionary Travels and Labors. Eight Illus- 
trations 1 25 

Children of ' Lake Huron; 

Or, the Cousins at Cloverley. 16rno 1 25 

Curious Facts for Little People about Animals. 

Twelve Illustrations. 16mo 1 00 


Discipline of Alice Lee. 

A Truthful Temperance Story. 
16 mo 


Illustrated. 


Dora Ha7nilton ; 

Or, Sunshine and Shadow. Six Illustrations. 
16ino 

Si7nple Stories^ with Odd Pictures ; 

Or, Evening Amusement for the Little Ones. 
With Twenty Illustrations. By Paul Konewka. 
16mo 


1 00 


0 90 


0 75 


Father s Co7ning Home. 

A Story of the Christie Family, and what they 
did to Welcome their Father Home. By the 
Author of “Weldon Woods,” etc. Four Illus- 
trations 1 00 




w 


• ^ 


PUBLISHED BY NELSON & PHILLIPS 


Home Life ; 

Or, How to Make Home Happy. A Book for 
Parents and Children. Illustrated. 16mo 

From Seventeen to Thirty. 

16ino 

A King's Daughter. 

With other Stories froih Real Life. By Mrs. H. 
C. Gardner. 16ino 

Last Gladiatorial Show . 

By John T. Short. Large 16m o 

Letters to a School-Boy. 

16mo 

Lilian. 

A Story of the Days of Martyrdom in England 
Three Hundred Years Ago. Seven Illustrations. 
16mo 

Marguerite; 

Or, the Huguenot Child. By Miss T. Tatlor. 
16mo 

Marion aiid Jessie; 

Or, Children’s Influence. 16mo 

Martyr of the Catacombs. 

Illustrated. 16mo 

Out in the World ; 

Or, A Selfish Life. By H. J. Wolfe. 16mo. . . 

The Silver Casket ; 

Or, the World and its Wiles. By A. L. O. E. 
Three Illustrations 

Early Crowned. 


$0 90 

0 90 

1 25‘ 

1 25 

1 00 

0 90 

1 00 

1 00 

0 90 

1 25 

1 00 




A Memoir of Mary E. North. 16m o, 


1 25 




/ 




PUBLISHED BY NELSOH b PHILLIPS 




Lindsay L.ee and his F?'iends. 

A Story for the Time. Lar^e 16mo $0 75 

Lives made Sublime by Faith arid Works. 

Large 16mo. Illustrated 1 50 

LLousehold Stories. 

From the German of Madame Ottillie Wilde- 
MUTH. By Eleanor Kinmont. Series I. Illus- 
trated. Large 16m o ? 150 

My Sister Margaret. 

A Temperance Story. Four Illustrations. By 
Mrs. C. M. Edwards 1 25 

Out in the World ; 

Or, A Selfish Life. By Helen J. Wolfe. Large 
161110 1 25 

Palissy the Potter; 

Or, the Huguenot, Artist, and Martyr. A True 
Narrative. By 0. L. Brightwell. Illustrated. 

Path of Life. 

By D. Wise, D.D. Large 16mo 1 

Gilt Edge 1 

Pillars of Truth. 

A Series of Sermons on the Decalogue. By E. 

O. Haven, D.D 1 

Pleasant Pathways; 

Or, Persuasives to Early Piety. By Daniel 
Wise, D.D. Steel Engravings 1 

Footprints of Roger Williams. 

By Rev. Z. A. Mudge. Large 16mo 1 

Six Years in Lndia. 

By Mr. Humphreys 1 

^ 


1 25 


00 

30 


25 

25 

25 

25 





PUBLISHED BY NELSON & PHILLIPS 



The Poet Preacher: 

A Brief Memorial of Cliaiies Wesley, the Eminent 
Preaclier and Poet. By Charles Adams. Illiis- 


$1 00 


trated 


The Stony Road. 

A Scottish story from Real Life. Larj’e 16mo.. 0 85 

Story of a Pocket Bible. 

A Book for all Classes of Readers. Illustrated. 1 25 

The Chart of Life: 

Tndicatinff the Dangers and Securities connected 
with the Voyage to Immortality. By Rev. 

James Porter, A.M., Author of “The True 
Evangelist,” “Operative’s Friend,” “Revivals 
of Religion,” etc. With an Introduction by 
Rev. Edward Otheman, A.M 1 00 

The Christian Statesman. 

A Portraiture of Sir Thomas Fowell Buxton. By 
Z. A. Mudge 1 25 

The Forest Boy. 

A Sketch of the Life of Abraham Lincoln. By 
Z. A. Mudge. Large 16mo 1 25 

The Mother s Mission. 

Sketches from Real Life. By the Author of “ The 
Object of Life.” Illustrated 125 

The Object of Life: 

A Narrative illustratitig the Insufficiency of the 
World, and the Sufficiency of Christ. With Four 
Illustrations 1 25 

Witch Hill: 

A History of Salem Witchcraft, including Illus- 
trative Sketches of Persons and Places. By Rev. 

Z. A. Mudge. Large 16mo... 1 25 





"Published by nelson & Phillips. 


The Rainbow Side, 

A Sequel to “The Itinerant.” By Mrs. C. M. 
Edwards. With Four Illustrations 25 

The Ministry of Life. 

By Maria Louisa Charlesworth, Author of 
“ Ministering Children,” ete. With Illustrations 125 

The Shepherd King; 

Or, a Sick Minister’s Lectures on the Shepherd 
of Bethlehem, and the Blessing that followed 
Them; By A. L. O. E., Authoress of the “ Young 
Pilgrim,” “The Roby Family,” etc. Illustrated. 125 

Trials of an Inventor: 

Life and Discoveries of Charles Goodyear. Large 
16nio 1 25 

Views fro7n Plymouth Rock. 

By Z. A. Mudge. With Six Illustrations. Large 
16mo 1 50 

Words that Shook the World; 

Or, Martin Luther his own Biographer. Being 
Pictures of the Great Reformer, sketched mainly 
from his own Sayings. By Charles Adams. Il- 
lustrated 1 25 


Young Lady's Counselor. 

By D. Wise, D.D. Large 16mo. 
Gilt Edge 


00 

30 


Young Man's Counselor. 


By D. Wise, D.D Large 16mo 1 00 

) 30 


Gilt Edge, 


K. 


Anna Lavater. 

A Picture of Swiss Pastoral Life in the Last 
Century. By Rev. W. Ziethe. Large 16mo.., 


1 00 


-4 




/ ^ PUBLISHED BY NELSON & PHILLIPS 



Memoh‘ of Washington Irving. 

With Selections from his Works, and Criticisms. 

By Chakles Adams, D.D. Large 16nio $1 25 


Itinerant Side ; 

Or, Pictures of Life in the Itineranc 3 \ With 
Engravings 1 00 


Life of Dr. Samuel Johnson. 

By C. Adams, D.D. Large 16mo 1 25 

Lady Huntingdon Portrayed. 

Including Brief Sketches of some of her Fi:iend8 
and Colaborers. By the Author of “ The Mission- 
ary Teacher,” “Sketches of Mission Life,” etc. 1 25 


Missionary in Many Lands. 

A Series of Interesting Sketches of Missionary 
Life. By Erwin House, A.M. Illustrated 1 25 

Ministering Children. 

A Story showing how even a Child may be as a 
Ministering Angel of Love to the Poor and Sor- 


rowful. Illustrated 1 50 

William the Taciturn. 

Translated by J. P. Lacroix. From the French 
of L. Abelous. Two Illustrations 1 25 


Lizzie Hagar^ the Orphan Girl. 

18mo 


Young Andrew^ s Revenge. 

18mo 

Abel Bisby. 

18mo 


Christmas Times in the Crocus Family. 

18mo 


0 45 

0 50 

0 50 

0 55 






gH ^W ■ j • ' . '*v* • ri ' ^■:v#>*^ • . 

^ ^ -;. ^ * . ' . "- '• -. .• •- » - ^ /-X '.I* / ■-• . " T' . - • • 

- -• “tW ^ • • • •■• • ^ ^ ' . .*. , • . ^ ' • 



j^T r* " : 

• ' **4 ’ } '■ V , *. 

• ' *♦ • • V 

L‘ r • . t . - ^ 

<• ■ »-S» 




Vi 




< * 

-• 


r;^>, 

■,■ - .VJ 




;<.• V' ^ ffjaa 

•■jy- -- V - 

^ ' *• • ft Wi^D 




' -V .- - -> ■ 

• f • 

* 

f *. 


• V » 




a 

i. 


.S 




r>^ ' 


4'. 

$ 


• % 
-r 


' • i 


• f, > 




-rv^ 


'• • \ ■ >r‘' 

: :/■■ . > 


•> 


i * * 


1 ^ 

/• - 

. -f • 

> r- 


V V i? 


> . ^ 






/ 


• v< - ' ' T 'fc •^’3 '- . - •‘- ' ■ * '-ji 

•t. ^ 'rT ^ V • '.; .•?^> , 

. - V.; ^ 'v-V, - ' \- jT VA,.- ^ V . . ■ ' -' .. 

• • , . • . "w'’'; - :- ■■ •-'. , ■->’■ .'■• 

. ■ , ' :.t- - .^'-•. -T-- ^ 

' •' • -/ '>.* ‘ . ' •> ' » ■ ' • • •■ ■ •■ ••' . -‘♦..U N 



. ^ 




nV 




, • * 




•_ t 




^ ? 


✓. — 


^ * V- ^ 


*! 


'• . 


K 

V4 


»■ ^ 


. » 


> \-- 



■ r » • 


' t< 


/- 


> 

\ ^ 




« »« 


t-' 


<. 


• A* 

A- 


t » 






« »*. 

« 


>%• '' 


f 

r* 

4 '• 


C 

- Z' 


-4 

r - « 




1 V • 

• . • 

>•-.■• ■■■ 


.. *<• 
f 




•%. 


. % 






A , 




4 ^ ^ 

• f * 


.!.• V 
-> - 




>■ • 


\ - 




^•y ": K- 


.• •■*■ 



'.’ • -i. ^ ^ 


‘. '^. '■» * * jf *• 

*• * V ’ 4 ^4& * 

■-s t « 


K •» 


- . K' ‘ 

• » 

..-•V 





• ' • A 


I » 


-k 


* ■* 




« 


/. 


V-. 


7 • _ 


K> ~ 


\ • *>. _ 


y 1 

» 

I 


• •r - j . 


. 4'. 

. • I I 


» •• 




V ' 




f 


.- r*- 


r: 

- ' * •. 

■^'vi 

: 1 • z * 


' 'v *^1 > ^■^* 


> 


;.f 


- ' • 

&. . * 


• « 


4 f 


r 




•» 

■L'-* li. 


V*' . 


‘■■^^' *1. 

"rC'*;. • 

'•T# * V • . ^ 

* ' -r. , , 


ri 

« 




• If - 

•-»•. >>i 

* 


f 

. . ...» 

r 


" \ . 


- *» 

* 


■4 

% 




« 'V 


> 


"k 

> . '■ •. 

% * 




"3 


■t 


>• 


. I 


1> 


* • 

f 


r 




\ - 
- »’» 


'• > 


»• * 


. m 


' m- : 



.s'-.> 


■ 

^ ' 
f* _ 

•> . 


f ' V r Z 

;> . 

•>' : 


^ « ' 


* < 


■•* -5 




i 


> . - t . . 


•* 


k »• f \ . • 

» ’V^’ 

•. •^ • W*%* 

• - • /..• -, 

• '.'-< -* r ■ 

* 



V ♦: 


. / 




A 






>v 


^ iu^ •• ' - 

■trr '- ’ v 


V • 





> • ^ 


.A 


f 

♦ . 


. * A * ^ 


!»' -f •. - 


> - V.^' 


• •- 


1 ■ 


• 1 


• /< ;- 


r * 


v*. 


- ^ . 




X ^ “ I, * ’• 

- " ■* ^ * « ' r • . • , , - ■■ ' 9 * ' . ' ..^ - T— » * • ■ 

.4* • ^ ■*.. / - - - .' • • 4 t •. ^ . # V* . c.- ^ <% *. ■ f ^ t-y- - 

' — • •'- •' •' • ... - ’X ' . ■ 

, *• * ■*«. - 2 * ^ 4 *^* '"r- .• •*' - - t ' A. • *• -► .• - • ■». ' 

;iiIV;.-NS^ . -,. ^ V’ ■■ >u; ■ 4.< • 

c*— V , •\4^. < -i. ' ' **"; ?v - --•♦.••t f Js9m9'* 


y. 


. ^%^\. ^“>7 


•s V * 

* 




. . ^ . /'-V i V c**' J ' 

< ^ « <k.- - k-/* — 



■y 



7 








» 



* • 






ff 



/ 


t 




1 


» 



* 



j 







• *» « 








*' 


t . 

r 



« - 








• . A* • 




* 












f 





« 


% 


, 


4 






' • -i 

» . 


•c? 


» 


•- f 

•A.*'. 



» 

• . , 4 

i 




4 










*1 


' r« ' 



V- 









‘V 


0 


. > ■ ■» 


J 

t 

i . 


*• 


« 

<4 - 


♦ 

' f 









»• 



• • 


> 

*. 


• « • • r ■ - ♦ 




« 


4 




« 


/ /f 

- ■ %V!- : 


V 



•V 



i 


i 







• • ✓ 





X * 


4 


• » • « 



-■,J 



• ' 


k. 1 


•• 


a' 


^ I 


l\ 


*>. . 

• I • 





( i 


« » 









* ^ 


•* 


\ 


I 4 




> 


# 


4 


■i- 



4 ^ 


/ 

< 

J 



<> 


.k • 







- - 




Ji 





UBRARY OF CONGRESS 


